


Down the Rabbit Hole

by CasSaunteredVaguelyDownwards



Series: Truth is Stranger than Fiction [1]
Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: AU, Alpha Hannibal Lecter, Alpha Will (?), BDSM, Daddy Kink, Dom/sub, Dubious Consent, F/M, Kinky, Knotting, M/M, Multi, Multiple Orgasms, My First Fanfic, OFC is an Omega, OFC is from our universe, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Original Female Character(s) - Freeform, Overstimulation, POV Original Female Character, Possessive Hannibal, Possible Threesome - F/M/M, Rough Sex, Shameless Smut, Work In Progress, Yes she's a Fannibal, and probably have a shit-eating grin on her face when Hannibal makes a joke, but she acts more like an Alpha, non-consensual drug use (heat-trigger), she is going to be cracking jokes right and left, so of course I decided to write something ridiculously kinky, which Hannibal loves
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-09
Updated: 2018-02-12
Packaged: 2018-10-26 06:29:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 4
Words: 28,148
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10781442
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CasSaunteredVaguelyDownwards/pseuds/CasSaunteredVaguelyDownwards
Summary: Freyja has a fairly normal life until the ground drops out from under her—literally.  From there she is thrown into the deadly dance of the show Hannibal; fortunately, she knows the series back to front, which may not be so fortunate in the long run because who is going to trust someone who knows what is going to happen?  Also, just because she knows the series, doesn't mean she'll be able to navigate this world successfully, after all, here there be Alphas.





	1. Falling for the First Time

**Author's Note:**

> I don't have a beta-reader, and sadly, I own none except Freyja.  
>  
> 
> And since I didn't like the way this chapter ended, I added more. Again.

           I lay curled up on my bed, delightedly enraptured with the scene in front of me on my computer.  Charles “Trip” Tucker and Malcolm Reed were heavily intoxicated, stranded alone in a shuttle-pod, and with a dwindling supply of air, so my mind was churning out potential fanfic material as quickly as it could, the majority of which was completely unsuitable for the eyes of the general public—especially religious mothers—but would be volatile fuel-fodder on Tumblr.

           “Freyja, please come down, it’s time for lunch!”  My mother, Mariah, called up the stairs.

           I hit the pause button for the episode on my laptop, “But the universe is giggling at them, and Malcolm is drunk!”  I sqwee'd.

           Mariah groaned in mock annoyance, “Freyja, you’ve seen that episode a dozen times, just pause it!  You can watch _Enterprise_ after you eat!”

 _Argh…I have no intention of pausing it longer than I have to…but if I don’t, Mom won’t stop telling me to eat—not that I haven’t been, she just doesn’t see Reese’s as being nutritious—they’re peanut-butter and chocolate, for goodness’ sake!  How more nutritious and delicious can you get!_ “How ‘bout I eat lunch while watching it?” I bargained.

           “Only if you go on a walk afterwards,” I heard my mom answer.

           “Done,” I declared.

           After finishing my lunch I grabbed my favourite boots and jacket, getting ready to head out to my preferred area of the woods; a place filled with moss-covered boulders, a stream, and tall brush that, mixed in with the boulders, had grown into a series of natural tunnels.

 

*                *                *                *

 

           I breathed in contentedly, the scent of fresh spring leaves and the woods right after a rain filling my lungs—it was a nice day out.  I smiled and loped down the deer-trail, picking up my pace as I neared a stream, getting ready to jump across it.  I shifted my walking-stick so I was holding it under my arm, careful to make sure that I wouldn’t inadvertently impale myself on the sharpened tip should I land wrong.  Bunching my muscles and leaping, I angled myself to compensate for the slope I was about to land on.  Time slowed down strangely as I neared the opposite bank.  I braced for the landing, but to my alarm, when my feet should have come into contact with the solid—if slightly spongy ground, they passed right through it.  I wailed in shock and alarm, throwing my weight forwards to try and grab hold of a young oak tree, but my hands passed through it as easily as my feet had with the ground.  I flailed about helplessly, falling through the ground.  I screamed.

 _No.  No, no, no, no, no._ _This can't be happening.  I'm not really falling through—I don't even know what I'm falling through, now,_ my mind interrupted with terror and mild curiosity; **_but that doesn't matter,_** ** _because this.  Isn't.  Real._** _I'm probably just hallucinating or dreaming._ I tried curling into a ball, hoping that since I was falling I wouldn't be able to—that there would be too much resistance from the air.  Unfortunately, curling into a ball was so easy that it might as well have been zero-gravity.   _But this isn’t be zero-gravity, because if it was, that would mean that there would be no atmosphere, and if there's no atmosphere, there's no air, no protective layer that filters the sun's rays, and I would've immediately suffocated and frozen.  Also, that would mean that I'm...not on Earth._ I finished lamely, unable to bring myself to properly complete that thought.

 

*                *                *                *

 

           I was full-on panicking.  I didn't know how long I'd been there, and it was pitch-black, icy, and I was pretty sure I was still falling, though it was hard to tell with not being able to see or feel anything.  I had tried screaming to see if that would help, but had stopped since it wasn’t doing anything except making my throat raw, and only made me feel _slightly_ better—I was instead trying to slow my breathing and calm down, but I wasn’t being very successful.  I didn’t know where my favourite walking-stick was—I dropped it when I started falling.  Speaking of falling, it felt like I was slowing down in my descent…or was I starting to fall  _upwards_?  It was impossible to tell, but I didn’t have long to wonder, because the next thing I knew, I was falling face-down on a hardwood floor and having air knocked out of my lungs from the impact.

 _What the—_  I tried lifting myself up off the floor, but I was so weak from the hours of falling through that void that my arms just buckled beneath me.   _Great.  Just great._   Once again, I struggled—and failed—not to panic.  I didn’t know where I was, or how the hell I'd gotten here, and I couldn’t move.  I whimpered softly—I couldn’t even open my eyes more than a crack, so I saw little to nothing of my surroundings.  There was a metallic tang to the air, as if lightning had just struck.  I tried to push myself over, but all I succeeded in doing was banging my jaw; my breathing steadied suddenly as my panic switched to rage.

 _How **dare** this happen.  Back home I was respected, and in some cases, feared, and with good reason—even those who didn’t fear me, who just respected and loved me as a friend, even they knew to never give me a reason to blacklist them, for being blacklisted by me entails so much more than merely loss of friendship, it means they’ve lost all of my protection that they had from others and myself_ , I seethed quietly, letting all my stored rage, anger, pain and fear build up into energy that I could use, not caring that my rage was unreasonable.

           Somewhere behind me a door opened and closed, heavy but quiet footsteps sounding.  I stilled, this new development causing my concentration to slip and my emotions fade to the background and my exhaustion becoming prevalent as I tried to find out what was happening by lifting my head, but the twenty pounds seemed doubled, so I just rested on the cool wood flooring, waiting, face-down and sprawled.  The footsteps paused, and there was the sound of someone inhaling deeply before the steps resumed, turning and heading straight towards me.

 _What the fuck?  Am I dealing with a human bloodhound, now?_  I felt the vibrations through the wood come closer before then stopping, and I could feel someone’s gaze on me.  Someone hummed thoughtfully above me—a man, impressively built if the sound from his diaphragm was anything to go by— walked forwards, crouching next to me, and placed two fingers firmly on my throat, feeling for a pulse.  When he realized that I was alive, he examined me for any further injuries before rolling me over, supporting my head in one of his large hands.

           I forced my eyes open a bit, there was no way I was going to let some repulsive pervert touch me—not that there was much I could actually do.  Bright sunlight shone across my face, making me wince as I squinted, trying to see the guy’s face.  Noticing my discomfort, the man shifted slightly, putting me in his shadow to shield my eyes.  His voice rumbled pleasantly, but was absolutely unintelligible to me; I let my eyes open a little more, and leaning over me was… _Hannibal?_

           I looked at him in exhausted puzzlement, the series of events just becoming increasingly confusing; _no, he’s a fictional character, this has to be Mads Mikkelsen dressed as Hannibal.  …What…why?  This makes no sense, season four isn’t even in the works yet—not that I really mind that he’s dressed like this; he’s gorgeous in those three-piece suits, but I thought he only had the red one, and this one is light blue with the cream shirt, tie, and kerchief thingy…pocket handkerchief?  And this is my favourite suit of his, too…damn, he looks so good it should be a sin_ , I thought hazily as he cradled my head carefully, picking up a small flashlight and checking to see if I had a concussion, I jerked my head, emitting a weak cry of protest, and squeezing my eyes closed as the bright light assaulted my sensitive retina, making my head throb, but his grip only tightened, holding my head securely so I couldn’t flinch away.  His voice rumbled again, no doubt telling me to open my eyes.  Grudgingly I cracked open my eyelids, wary of the agonizing light.  He spoke again, I still couldn’t understand him, but there was no mistaking the sound of approval in his velvety timbre as he proceeded to temporarily blind me.

           Exhaustion finally won its battle, and after he removed the light, I sank blissfully into unconsciousness.

          Hannibal looked down at the girl thoughtfully, puzzled at how or why she had entered his house, and why she was as weak as a kitten.  She did not appear to have any injuries, and aside from her apparent fatigue, she looked to be in full health.  There was also the question of motive, if she was a criminal she would have been warned off by the local underworld from targeting his house, which meant that she was either a high enough calibre that she thought the danger wasn’t an issue, or she had been driven to take refuge here or was placed as a gift or a peace offering.  He leaned down, inhaling deeply under the young woman’s jaw, the pleasant scent of cherry blossoms and sweet, creamy coconut wafting from her skin, but not from any lotion or perfume.  Hannibal smirked; there was something else, a hint of something _different_ about this girl.

 

*                *                *                *

 

Awareness trickled back slowly, the feeling of soft clothing, of resting on something that molded to my form; what felt like silk or satin surrounding me, and a comfortable weight covering me; light playing across my face; muffled sounds coming from below me, like someone was cooking; cool air filling a relatively empty space.  I sighed sleepily, and let my eyes drift open.  I was in a tastefully decorated room with what looked like antique European furnishings and a lovely rug (Turkish, perhaps?).  The events of yesterday were so odd, blurred and jumbled that I assumed that I had dreamt up the whole thing.  _How did_   _I_   _get here—where even is here?  I don’t know anyone who has furniture like this…maybe I’m in an 18 th century “Era” hotel—fuck, someone else had better be footing the bill, because I don’t have that kind of money_.

           I yawned; in my mind, I'd woken up from the weirdest dream that I’d fallen through the ground, and Hannibal the cannibal found me lying face-down, immobile on his floor.   _Now wouldn't that be something—heh, it sounds like it could be the beginning of a fanfic._

           Stretching I sat up, swinging my legs off the bed.   _What.  The.  Hell._   I was in pajamas.  These were  _not_  my pajamas—they were too big, and they were actual pajamas—not an old pair of running pants and a baggy tee-shirt.  These were men’s pajamas, and they smelled… _really good; really, **really** good._   I shivered in delight, revelling in the scent that stirred up around me from the slight movement and debated on whether or not I should start rolling around in them like a cat would roll in catnip—as ridiculous as it was, I wanted to purr and spread this wonderful masculine scent all over me.  But I had no memory of putting these on, so that was a  _very_   _big_  problem— _hopefully a good-looking problem, too_ , a corner of my mind piped up impishly, _with broad shoulders and a slim waist—_

           Soft footfalls snapped me out of my thoughts.  I rose, staring intently at the door to see what would happen, but a glint caught my eye, it was my belt-buckle.   _Oh, my clothes!_   They were folded neatly on a chest at the foot of the bed and they looked freshly laundered.  I hovered uncertainly, flanked by the bed and the door, torn between wanting to be dressed in my own clothes and not wanting to be caught undressing and in a vulnerable position by whoever was walking towards the room.  A gentle knocking at the door caused me to jump slightly; my choice had been made for me.

           “Yes?” I questioned cautiously, balancing imperceptibly on the balls of my feet, ready to either flee or fight, adrenaline starting to enter my bloodstream.

           The door opened to reveal Dr. Hannibal Lecter dressed impeccably and carrying a tray of breakfast food.  My eyes widened in disbelief as I resisted the urge to start laughing.   _What?  …Hannibal…_ _This can't be happening; it was just an absurd, fantastical dream._   I endeavoured to keep my breathing even as my mind proceeded to supply explanations and theoretical scientific answers to an impossible situation before I forced myself to remember the rules of our universe.   _Well, the known rules, that is—no, no, this isn’t possible—this is a prank of some sort, a smile-you’re-on-camera thing.  Hannibal Lecter is a fictional character.  I’m not standing in front of Hannibal; this is Mads—because otherwise this_ _can’t_ _be real._

My thoughts raced at a million miles an hour as my eyes travelled over him, constantly warring between what was possible, and what the whimsical part of me just couldn’t resist entertaining and running off on a capricious tangent; _he’s a fictional, cannibalistic, psychopathic serial killer that you love; but if he is real, you need to stay as far away from him as you can, that’s the only way you’ll be safe.  He’s too dangerous._   … _or if I get him to care for me, become invaluable to him, be polite and intelligent, let him play his games and toy with me…he’ll protect you somewhat if you do that—only this_ _is the real world_ _, so…le sigh, and thank goodness because he would destroy my sanity._

    A hand touched my left shoulder. I jerked back reflexively, whipping my arm up to block the hand, my eyes wide in surprise going to meet those of my attacker only to realize that it was just Han—Mads—looking at me concernedly and saying something.  I tried to force myself out of my daze, and focus on what he was saying—he was asking if I was okay.  I lowered my arm and managed to level my breathing, “Yes, I’m fine—sorry, I just thought—I don’t know—” I finally decided to settle on, “how did I get here?”  Although I'm pretty sure he didn't believe me when I said I was fine, considering how I was unable to formulate a complete senten— _oh!_   I placed a hand on my forehead, feeling lightheaded and dizzy.

 Hannibal slowly moved towards me like I was a frightened animal who would skitter away or lash out at him suddenly.  He set the tray on the small table by the door, holding out a hand to steady me as I teetered uncertainly, confusion apparent on my face. “Careful,” he spoke in his sinful Danish accent.  “You have not eaten anything for some time, and you were very weak and disoriented when I found you.”

             I laughed faintly and allowed him to move forwards to steady me, “I was weak and disoriented when you found me?  I feel rather weak and disoriented _now_.  And, if you don’t mind me asking…” I hesitated, only continuing when he lowered his head slightly, gazing at me intently with his red-brown eyes so as not to miss anything I might say or any of my reactions.  “Where exactly am I, and _how_ did I get in these pajamas?”  I plucked at the pants’ material while fighting to keep a flush from blooming across my face.

             He met my gaze calmly, “Of course, I imagine this must be rather frightening for you.  You are in 5 Chandler Square, Baltimore Maryland; I am Dr. Hannibal Lecter; and after you lost consciousness I thought you would be more comfortable in sleepwear.”

            _Uh-huh, yeah, sure, because everyone knows that you’re secretly Hannibal Lecter, and that you’d undress an unconscious young woman, and you of course wouldn’t ever entertain thoughts of taking advantage of her, because that would be rude—regardless of the fact that I’d let you do just about anything to me—and then you’d have to eat yourself…which for some reason sounds really kinky in my head, and now I'm rambling._

 _Baltimore, Maryland?  If you’re telling the truth, I’m just a few hours north of home…and Mads is saying his name is Hannibal Lecter, oh dear, no matter which way you look at this—this is going to be…interesting.  Possibly like a mental illness.  …I suppose I should just enjoy myself and play along for the time being._   “Okie dokie, thanks…um…I’m Freyja Sturluson.”  My stomach growled loudly, adding its own introduction, “Er…” I blushed and clutched at my stomach in a vain attempt to get it to quiet down.

            Hannibal’s lips turned upwards slightly in amusement, “Perhaps you should have something to eat first.  Since you are up, would you prefer to eat with me downstairs?”

            “Yes, thank you; that would be nice.”  I smiled hesitantly in response.

            “Well then,” he turned, picking up the tray and gesturing for me to go ahead of him.

            “Thank you,” I ducked my head shyly, slipping past him into the hallway, the heady scent of spice filling my nose, causing me to relax involuntarily and need to suppress a moan— _what the hell?!  I mean, yes, this is Mads—but seriously, let’s have some decorum here._   “Is there anything I can carry, or…?”

            Hannibal smiled at me reassuringly as he moved through the doorway, “Thank you for offering, Miss Sturluson, however I am fine, and as you are my guest it would be rude of me to have you carry this when I can.”

            “All right; and please call me Freyja, Dr. Lecter, I’ll feel even more woefully under-dressed if you’re so formal with me,” I smiled playfully.

            Hannibal glanced at me as we reached the stairs, “Of course, and my apologies, Freyja, if you would prefer to change first before eating, I will gladly wait.”

            I backpedaled, “Oh, no, it’s quite all right, I wouldn’t want to keep you waiting, I can always change afterwards, I don’t mind.”  When I saw from his face that he was about to ask me again, I added light-heartedly, “And besides, I’m fairly certain that my stomach won’t appreciate me adding a delay—it tends to be rather insistent with this sort of thing,” I quirked a smile.

            He chuckled softly in response as we made our way down the stairs.

 

*                *                *                *

 

            I eyed the wineglass warily, debating whether or not I really wanted to try drinking from it. _Does this man possess any sort of glass that’s normal and doesn’t have that awkward curve to it?  We’re not even drinking wine!_ My thirst won out, so I took a sip from the glass, my inexperience with them causing some of the orange juice to spill over the rim and down my front, “Ah, fuck,” I muttered thoughtlessly as I proceeded to sponge up the mess with my cloth napkin, completely missing Hannibal’s disapproving look.

            He ceased cutting a piece of sausage, choosing instead to watch me, “Freyja, I would prefer it if you would refrain from using profanity in my house.”

            My eyes shot up to his while my face coloured in mortification, “Oh, shi—!  Sorry—of course, I-I didn’t realize—if I had known, I would never have said that—I’m sorry.”

            Hannibal smiled slightly as if to put me at ease, “It’s quite all right, Freyja, just please refrain from swearing in the future.”

            “Of course,” I answered readily, more than glad to help things run smoothly.  “It won’t happen again, Dr. Lecter.”  I glanced down at my meal thoughtfully, wondering how long this charade was to last, “So…I don’t suppose you know how I got here?”

            “Unfortunately not, I found you lying face-down in my office; I was hoping you would be able to explain that to me.”

 _Here we go_ , “Ah, hmm, well…that might pose a bit of a problem; you see…the last thing I remember was going on a walk in the woods back home in Virginia, approximately three hours away from Maryland.  The next thing I knew, I was landing in your office, the tang of lightning in the air, and I was too weak to move.”  I watched him closely with my peripheral vision, “As you can imagine, I am somewhat sceptical of the idea that I lost time or that I was abducted and, for a reason unknown to me, dropped off in your house like a plucked goose.  It just seems rather…unlikely—I don’t have any enemies.”  I pretended to focus on my breakfast, waiting to see how he would react to my verbal expression—only the slightest hint of amusement— “But then, how else would I have gotten here?”

            Hannibal hummed thoughtfully, “Have you angered any Omega traders?  It is not unheard of for them abduct an unbonded Omega and give them to a random Alpha as punishment.”

 _What?_    I froze, my mind fixating on the one word, “Omega?  What the blazes do you mean Omega?”  I stared at him incredulously, my capricious intellect deciding to host a rebellion and throw the rulebook out the window, running rampant.  “This isn’t some Alpha/Beta/Omega-verse.  This is the set of a _show_ , not some place where people sell Omegas to the highest bidder!” I bit at the sausage, taking satisfaction in hearing my teeth snap together; lingering exhaustion, overall confusion, and hunger making my emotions more prominent and causing my self-control to slip.  “This charade has been fun and all, but there’s a limit to everything; you shouldn’t deviate from what’s cannon like _this_.”

            Hannibal felt a tendril of dominance curl in him when I snapped my teeth together, taking in a breath and resisting the urge to assert himself as the alpha before responding calmly, “Freyja, I believe that you are slightly confused by these events, it is possible that you received a head injury, causing you this confusion.  The world that we live in is run by Alpha, Beta, and Omega dynamics, among other things, and you are an Omega.”

            I raised an eyebrow, “Forgive me for not believing you, but last I checked there was no social stigma or dynamic to keep someone from getting a job that they want.  We’re talking about a world that is driven by facts—not fiction.  All fiction serves is to inspire, teach, and/or entertain.  Alphas, Betas, and Omegas…I have only ever come across them in fiction—even the thought that this world is being run by a fictional social dynamic is just that: fictional—a fantasy, nothing more.”  I paused and looked at him pointedly, “And I am fairly certain that I would have noticed if our world was in an A/B/O universe—or if I was an Omega, for that matter.”

            “You remain unconvinced?”

            “Very much so; I am _not_ an Omega.”

            Hannibal rose, “Then perhaps you would consent to a little experiment to prove what universe we are in?”

            I eyed him charily, “That depends entirely on what that experiment entails.”

            He moved towards me, offering a hand to help me up, and saying, “All it entails is seeing how you react to my hormones.”

            I stared at him, a flush blooming across my face.  “Uh—I’m sorry, _what_?”

            Hannibal explained patiently, “I am an Alpha, and by your scent, you _are_ an Omega; you should have a submissive response to my scent.”

            I shot up, ignoring his hand and trying to ignore the arousal that his comment stirred in me, and spun so that I was standing on the opposite side of my chair from him, “ _O-kay_ …”  My voice came out a pitch higher than I expected.  “I’m not quite sure how this happened, but somehow we went from discussing different social dynamics to…olfactory _kinks_.  And not that I don’t find you attractive and all, I just think that we should stay on topic—after all, I don’t know you, and you don’t know me, so let’s have some propriety here, hmm?”

            He smirked, which did absolutely nothing to comfort me—just the opposite, in fact.  Now my mind was screaming for me to run, my heart was racing, and I was turned on, which made me rather inclined to pounce on him and fight him for dominance or let him do whatever he wanted—the mixed messages my body sent me were confusing me more than the supposed dynamics of this society, and as I result, I just stood there while he advanced, the look on his face making my breath hitch, and causing me to stumble back into the table.  I gripped the edge of the wood for a semblance of stability, my chest rising and falling rapidly as his now dizzying scent pervaded my senses, causing my body to arch up instinctively as my gaze submissively fell—on a prominent part of Hannibal.  I moaned helplessly upon seeing his impressive bulge, my core throbbing and clenching needily as I felt slick start to seep out of me.  Hannibal chuckled, the sound going straight to my core.  “Even now your body is responding so well to me, and I haven’t as much as touched you, Freyja,” he purred, gliding forwards to trap me against his table, leaning forwards to place his hands on the table near mine, effectively caging me with his body without touching me.  He tilted his head, leaning in even more to take in the scent at my throat, his proximity and the lack of physical contact pulling a whimper from me.  "Omega," he rumbled softly against my skin, making me gasp and my legs weaken.

            A phone rang somewhere in the house.  Hannibal moved back, pausing a moment to apologize for having to take the call and to look at my aroused, submissive state before leaving the dining room to answer the call.

 _Saved_ _by_ _the_ _bell_ , I sighed in both relief and disappointment before examining the room in consternation.  _Okay, what was that?  What is with me—what is with **him**?!  Hannibal doesn’t act like that, not with someone that he doesn’t know.  Hannibal—what the hell am I talking about, this is Mads!  What the blazes is going on here?  Omegas…Alphas…Hannibal…this is nuts—really sexy, but nuts._   I moved and sagged against my chair in confusion, _what should I do?  I can’t just leave, that would be rude, and if there’s the slightest chance he’s telling the truth…  It **would** explain why I fell through the ground…ah!!  Why can’t things just be normal???  Why can’t my **mind** reason things like a relatively normal person?  That aside, it technically **is** possible that I could be in a different—_

            Footsteps once more cut off my train of thought, causing me to stiffen.  Hannibal re-entered the room, and I gripped the back of my chair nervously, not trusting myself around him.  I started rambling nervously, “So, um, thank you, Dr. Lecter for everything and all, but I’m sure you have plenty of work to do, so why don’t I change into my clothes and I’ll get out of your way?  I really wouldn’t want to be a bother, and seeing as how I’m perfectly fine now, I really don’t see any point in me imposing on your hospitality, so I’ll just go and change, shall I?”

            Hannibal easily hid his amusement at my clumsy attempt to escape from him, “I’m afraid I wouldn’t be a very good psychiatrist if I let you do that, Freyja.  You should at least be under supervision for twenty-four hours after you regain your memory, if not longer should your confusion persist more than it is already.”

 _…oh…_   I racked my brain for some way out, but couldn’t find one that wouldn’t give him more reason to keep a close eye on me—or kill me for being rude.

            A ghost of a smirk graced Hannibal’s face as he watched the realization of just how trapped I was dawn on me.

 _…maybe if I_ …  “Well, it’s not as if I don’t remember anything, I know my name, age, where I live, and plenty else besides, so I’m sure I’m fine—if anything, all it could really be construed as is losing time or the after-effects of a concussion, but I’m sure it’s nothing,” I tried with false levity.  Without him even saying anything I could see that he was amused by my attempt, and that I wasn’t going to be leaving anytime soon.  _Drat_.

            Hannibal smiled kindly, “Freyja, losing time or having amnesia due to a concussion is not something you should brush aside.  I know you don’t want to be any trouble; however I will not allow you put yourself at risk like that, no matter how much you insist that you are fine.”

            I let my shoulders fall in defeat, “Fine, you win…not that there was ever a question of that,” I added with faint self-deprecating humour.

            Hannibal veiled his amusement; I had given up too quickly—too easily.  It could be that I had recognized that fighting him was a lost cause, however Hannibal could see the way I held myself—I looked relaxed, but there was tension in my movements and shoulders as if I was trying to lull him into believing that I had given up, but was very much alert, and just waiting for the right moment.  “I do hope that you don’t intend to slip out sometime when you think I’m not paying attention, Freyja.”

            I froze guiltily, unused to people seeing through me.  _Only it’s no wonder that he did, seeing as I haven’t exactly been myself because of his…advances?  They, and this whole situation, have really thrown me off balance_.  I hesitated, “…um…no?”

            “Freyja,” Hannibal reproached me.

            I cringed, “Sorry.  I—your… _experiment_ kinda caught me off-guard.  If it helps any, I’ll promise I won’t.”

            Hannibal sat back down in his chair to finish his breakfast.  Knowing that some people often promised like that, and that I would most likely be banking on his assumption that I was doing so as well, he asked, “Are you offering or promising?”

 _Damn, he pays attention—unfortunate for me; good for his patients_.  I rested my hands more easily on the back of my chair, “…I don’t suppose you’d accept an ambiguous answer, would you?”

            He chuckled softly, “No.”

            “Thought not,” I mumbled, earning another chuckle.  I sat down, nibbling morosely at my remaining food.

            Hannibal smiled in amusement, I really was trying, bewildered as I was; “Freyja?”  He prompted.

            I slumped in true defeat, knowing that he wouldn’t let me off the hook.  “I promise I won’t leave without your go-ahead, Dr. Lecter, I answered obediently.

            “Good girl,” he went back to his meal, watching me carefully from the corner of his eye.

            I jolted and a blush threatened to dust my cheeks as my core muscles clenched; _why, **why** did he have to say **that?**   I’m trying to remain in control of myself, but I don’t know how that will work if you keep teasing me like this, Han—Will—no, wrong name, and **still** fictional— MADS.  There we go_.  I focused on the breakfast, missing his slight smirk and ignoring the sensation of his gaze on me while we ate quietly.

            “So…” I finally broke the silence, “is there anything else I should be aware of, other house rules, or some such thing?”  I gave him a crooked smile.

            Hannibal smiled slightly, “Yes, there are some things we should discuss.”

            “Okie dokie,” I chirped, my choice of words earning an amused look from him.  “I know that I’m rather curious about how this whole thing is going to work, so shoot.”

            He thought for a moment, “Since you do not remember everything and are a fully mature Omega who has yet to experience a heat, it may be dangerous for you to go out in public alone; even more so because you do not know your way around this city, and which areas to avoid.”

            “…”  I gave him a long look, assessing him and what he had said, and summarily decided to take what he said into account, but that I would do whatever I damn well pleased.  “Does that mean you’re placing me under house arrest?”

            “No, but it does mean that you should not go out alone.”

             _Totally not happening, but you might as well continue_.  I nodded and leaned back, “Dokie; so what am I to do with myself while I’m here, Doctor?”

            “You may do whatever you want, Freyja.”

             _Ya damn right, I may_.

            “However I would ask that you show me the same courtesy that I show you.”

            “Oh, of course, to do anything less would be…rude,” I smirked down at my plate, unable to resist the joke.  “I’ll probably just read or sketch while I’m here, so I shouldn’t really disrupt your daily routines or anything.”  When I looked up, Hannibal was watching me, an inscrutable expression on his face as if he was trying to figure out why I kept switching from acting sweet and reasonable, to acting as if I knew something no one else knew and always had a hint of a smile like I was in on some joke or about to do something outrageous.  I resisted the urge to smirk at him, trying not to let what I knew about him show in my eyes, and focused on my food.  The rest of the meal continued uneventfully, mainly due to my survival instinct finally kicking in, and ended with his instruction of not to leave the house unaccompanied, and his offer to fetch me some books to read and papers to sketch on before he left for his office.

 

*                *                *                *

 

            Several quiet weeks slipped by, forcing me to acknowledge that I might very well be in Hannibal’s world, so out of necessity I had more or less settled into Hannibal’s routine with what might be considered a disquieting ease, which allowed me to grow comfortable in Hannibal’s house—though I was far from content with his restrictive rules for my safety as a “confused, young, unbonded Omega,” and I still tread carefully around him, unsure of where I stood with him since every time I would even hint at being from a different universe he would give me a certain look or would gently but firmly re-explain things to me like I was having a relapse.  However I knew what the truth was and I wouldn’t let his explanations, reasonings, or rules that could be just manipulative ploys to stop me.  Of course, he could actually think that I was delusional and was concerned for my safety—either way, he was watching me closely.  And as such, I had started slipping out when I thought I could get away with it, which was usually when Hannibal was working or—if I was feeling particularly restless or reckless—asleep.  Sometimes I would just wander around the historical parts of the city, climbing up and finding nifty little perches and hidey-holes; at other times I would go to a library, a small boutique, a hidden music shop, or little-known bookshop to browse and chat with like-minded people that I didn’t have to tip-toe around for fear of being eaten for knowing too much.

            There was one particular bookstore called Wit’s End where I had made friends with a fifteen year-old kid named Ulysses who was a beta and the epitome of a rebel—he had even changed his last name to “Hellion” just as a major fuck-you to his rich, snobby parents; an absurd story which never failed to get me laughing whenever I so much as thought of it.  As a result I happily took the kid under my wing, becoming his mentor and teaching him everything about Rogues, the Class of thief that I am.  Admittedly, it is a Class that technically only exists in games and fiction, but that never stopped me, and he certainly didn’t let it stop him, he rather liked the idea of being a Rogue, and since I had started training him, he decided to introduce me to the group of thieves that he was a member of that were operating out of the back and the basement of the shop.

            Before I knew it, a month of my forbidden excursions went past, and as time trundled on, I became more confident and had built a little social life for myself in the tightly-knit community of bookshops, their rare book dealers, boutiques, and a few antiquities/artifact dealers.  I would often do little odd jobs around Wit’s End, supply information, or steal the occasional rare book or item that just couldn’t be acquired through more conventional means in exchange for money, books, or other unique—albeit sometimes questionable—items.  I was very happy with my little “night life;” and perhaps just a bit too comfortable as I built up my clientele and took calculated risks when it came to sneaking in and out of Hannibal Lecter’s home in order to carry out my secrecy-bound work undetected.


	2. Get On Your Hands And Knees

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't know how often I'll be able to work on this fic.

            The door clicked quietly as I gently shouldered it closed; I had just gotten back from one of my favourite bookshops, so my arms were now full of various books that I’d never read.  I puttered along happily in the hallway, carefully slipping my shoes off at the door before heading up to my room to put the books on the bed.  After setting the books down, I hesitated, knowing that I should check in with Hannibal…and maybe tell him that I had left without his permission to get some air while he was out… _but then again, what he doesn’t know won’t hurt him_ , I reasoned, desperately hoping that Hannibal wouldn’t have noticed my absence or my return.  Unfortunately for me, that was not the case.  Hannibal moved out into the hallway as he heard me pad up the stairs, and he glanced at my shoes which had been noticeably absent before.  He walked back to his office to give me a chance to come to him and explain why I had disobeyed him.

            I strolled down the stairs, the picture of innocence, getting all of my stories straight in my head—something for whatever Hannibal might ask.  I smiled and walked towards his office, my nose in one of the books he leant me.  Glancing over as I reached the doorway, I saw him seated behind his desk; as if sensing my eyes on him, Hannibal looked up.  I smiled in greeting, “Ah, Dr. Lecter, you’re back.”

            Hannibal appraised me silently from where he sat, nary a hint of a smile on his face, and a disapproving air radiating through the room at me.  I felt my stomach plummet, “…er…” I swallowed nervously, “something…wrong?”  I held the book in front of me like a shield.

            He sat back, “Well, Freyja, considering the fact that you were nowhere to be found when I returned, I would tend to think that there was, wouldn’t you?”

            “Um…” I squirmed under his hard gaze, clutching the book close to my chest while shifting from foot to foot, “I needed to get some…air…?” I faltered, suddenly finding the wood floor in front of my feet very interesting.

            “Freyja,” came Hannibal’s disapproving response along with the sound of him standing up and coming towards me.

            I resisted the urge to skitter back as he approached, choosing instead to point the toes of my feet inwards, and make myself as small as possible, my gaze locked on the floor.  “Yes?”  I squeaked out.

            Hannibal viewed my submissive behaviour with satisfaction, “Freyja, look at me.”  He commanded in his powerful voice as moved right in front of me, his shoes entering my line of vision.

            I glanced up, colouring, feeling just like a child caught with its hand in the cookie jar.  “I needed to get some air,” I repeated softly, still studiously avoiding eye-contact.

            “Freyja, what did I tell you about going out alone?”

            I straightened, throwing my shoulders back in a sudden act of defiance, “You said that it would be a bad idea for someone with my level of quote, unquote: _confusion_.  However—” here my voice and stance softened, “and I _am_ sorry for leaving—I _needed_ to get some air and have a chance to think over everything _alone_ and without any distractions.  There’s only so much strange information I can take in before starting to feel overwhelmed; I needed to get it out of my system.”

            “You are not to go anywhere without me, Freyja,” the finality in his voice and the fact that he then walked back to his desk and glanced down at his paperwork in apparent dismissal, ticking me off.

            My temper flared up at his audacity, “You don’t own me!”  I spat out.

            Upon hearing that, something seemed to snap in Hannibal, he turned sharply, dragging me to him and trapping me between him and the desk, one of his hands sliding possessively down to rest below the small of my back, the other sliding up over my back to wrap my hair around his fist and yank my head over to the side, exposing my throat to his velvety lips that now traced along my pulse, making my legs buckle.  He spoke again, this time his voice filled with a dark promise of all the things that he could do to me—that he could make me _beg_ for, “Don’t I?  Your body knows who it belongs to, _Freyja_.”

            I gasped softly, squirming and bringing my hands up to try and push him away, but I found myself curling my hands into his suit-jacket and pulling him closer until I was plastered to his deliciously firm body.  I writhed wantonly in his arms, rolling my hips roughly against his large erection, and moaning hungrily at the sparks of pleasure the friction and the weight of his body pressing against mine gave me.

            Dark satisfaction curled in Hannibal, and it seeped into his voice, making me even more submissive and eager, “That’s it, _good_ _girl, good **Omega.**   _Do you want me to breed you, _kitten_?”  He nipped at the sensitive skin under my jaw.

            At that I let out a sob of pleasure, my hips bucking up, and a single word slipped from my mouth, _“Please!”_

            “So polite,” he uttered softly into my skin.  “However, you need to ask for what you want.”

            “Please, I—” I broke off into a whimper, not even knowing what to beg for or if I really should be begging him; I barely knew the man, yet here I was, begging for him like a well-trained pet, and it was starting to look like he might even be telling the truth, because surely I would have better self-control otherwise, and his scent wouldn’t be so intoxicating.  I started struggling against him again.  Hannibal yanked my head over and snarled into my pulse-point, making me tremble and submit to him, keening softly—

            Hannibal pulled away, prying my fingers from his clothes.  “Good girl.  I’m sorry to leave so soon, however I have an emergency appointment with Will Graham.”  He walked away after taking a long look at me slumped against his desk; chest heaving and face flushed a pretty pink—all for him.

                                                

*                *                *                *

 

            I jolted upright in my chair, breathing heavily.  _A dream, that’s all it was, just a dream—sadly, because **fucking hell, was that hot**_.  I slumped back with a disappointed sigh, wishing for nothing more than to have him in every sense of the word, to have his body over mine, filling me repeatedly with his cum while making me scream with pleasure.  I hummed longingly, thinking of the way his suits and shirts always strained over his wonderfully broad shoulders and chest.  “What I would give to have that gorgeous killer…”

            Hannibal chose that moment to walk in, catching every word I said, “Freyja?”

            My eyes widened in surprise as I exclaimed, “Ha—Dr. _Lecter!_   I didn’t realize you were right there, you startled me!”  I laughed nervously, desperately hoping that he wouldn’t notice that I’d almost called him by his first name, completely forgetting what I had said moments before.

            “My apologies, Freyja; that was not my intent,” Hannibal sat down opposite me, a serious look on his face.  “Freyja, what were you talking about just now when you said, ‘what I would give to have that gorgeous killer’?”

 _Shit.  That’s right, I said that out loud_.  I improvised, “Oh, heh, that; I was talking about a fictional character, is all,” I laughed lightly, _technically not a lie_.  “I have this little habit of falling for the dangerous ones—not dangerous to me, just dangerous in general—especially the psychopaths, I find them rather irresistible,” I rambled, “most of my family never really got why—well, except for most of my favourite siblings, only one of them didn’t get it,” I laughed again.  _Shut up, shut up, shut up, and you’re not shutting up_.  “Not that I really mind, it’s fun being known for walking the line, people are a lot less liable to cross you,” I finally managed to clamp my mouth closed.  _Well done, you’ve just given **Doctor** Hannibal fucking Lecter enough psyche fodder about you to last for months to come!  Stupid, stupid, stupid!_   I heard him take in a breath, but before he could say anything, I foolishly let my mouth open, and out rushed, “But only the fictional psychopaths, you understand, I don’t go for the real ones—well not that I know of—well actually, I’m pretty good at telling if someone is a psychopath or not, so I would know—but since I don’t go for them—well, except for that one guy and— _anyway_ , I actually—actually, I am going to stop talking now.”  My face burned, and I studiously avoided his gaze.  _You made it worse!  You frickin’ made it worse!  How could you possibly make it worse???_   I mentally kicked myself, stopping only when I heard Hannibal speaking.

            “Freyja,” he paused, leaning forwards, and dread took the opportunity to pour in.  “I trust I don’t need to explain to you how dangerous your fascination for psychopaths is, however, you should know that if you aren’t careful, you might end up as someone’s murder victim, and I would prefer not to need to consult with the FBI to find your killer.  Psychopaths are not people that you should be flirting with; as you could very well be flirting with death—especially since you can tell what they are,” Hannibal lowered his head, catching my eyes, and refusing to release me until he thought that what he said had sunk in.

            “Which is why I don’t go for them,” I interjected hastily.  “I mean, it’s not like I don’t like flirting with them, because it’s really a lot of fun, flirting with danger, and all that; but I know to keep my distance—unless I find something that draws me further in, then I take a calculated risk and join in the dance, toying with them as much as they toy with me—I just find it addictive, the danger, excitement, the thrill of the chase, the way we always circle each other so carefully before darting in and making an intricate move—I know I should stay away, but sometimes I just can’t bring myself to; and I have no idea why I am telling you all this, I guess you’re just really good at your job—and then there’s the fact that I ramble when I’m noticed, you may have nervoused—I mean, I ramble when I’m nervous, you may have _noticed!”_   I laughed a bit too brightly.

            “Freyja, I can’t help but feel that you are talking about someone, and not speaking hypothetically.”

            “Um, can’t this just be a conversation about how I would theoretically be with a fictional character?”

            Hannibal gave me a long look, “Freyja…”

            “Yes, H-ahh…” I turned the beginning of his name into a sigh, “um, I guess I just was caught off-guard—again.  You seem to be really good at doing that, Dr. Lecter…”  I looked at him.  I hadn’t even come close to derailing him.  _Why can’t he be like normal people??  A compliment here, a hint that they can do something unusual there—they’re so easy to distract!  And to make matters worse, I’m not used to dealing with my equals anymore; it’s been years since I’ve dealt with someone of his calibre, so I’m severely out of practice!  I miss the oblivious_ , I despaired inwardly, careful to maintain my schooled expression before continuing seriously.  “I…may sometimes be reckless, and have a thing for dangerous men, but I’m not one to get involved in something I can’t handle, Dr. Lecter.  If I get involved with someone like that, well, it’s unlikely that I’ll be killed because I’ll have…security measures in place: they try anything, I get them to destroy themselves.”

            “Are you sure you aren’t overestimating yourself, Freyja?”  He watched me, noticing how I had almost used his first name again, and he wondered exactly what sort of person I was and what I could do.  Sometimes I seemed like a perfect, sweet Omega, and then I would go and start acting like a cocksure Alpha.

            I switched tactics and smiled flirtatiously, leaning forwards, head tilted to tantalize him with a glimpse of my cleavage and the slender column of my throat, “I’m sure that if ever I do, you’ll be more than capable of convincing me, after all, you _are_ an Alpha,” I purred, “and as an Omega, how _ever_ could I refuse you, Dr. Lecter?”  I asked, oh so innocently.  Hannibal’s eyes perused my exposed skin, lingering in all the right places.  I breathed in and out slowly, deliberately using only the top of my lungs, making my breasts press firmly against the snug cotton of my shirt.

            “You might want to be careful of who you say that to, Freyja.”  There was a hint of something dark in his voice that made me look up at him through my lashes and notice the way his shirt was straining against his broad shoulders and chest from the way he leaned forwards.  His fingers were laced together; the contours of his hands and the muscles that lay hidden beneath his taut clothing were plain to see.

            I blushed faintly before answering a bit breathily, unable to resist playing with the fire that smoldered imperceptibly in his eyes, “And why is that, Dr. Lecter?”

            He stood, looking down upon me with a possessive glint in his eyes, “There are Alphas who would claim you just for talking to them like that.”  He stepped to the table next to me, moving to pick up my empty water glass.

            My blush fully prevalent now, I asked in a manner that was more of a submissive invitation than a question, “Would you?”  I blinked slowly, letting my eyelashes flutter and brush softly against my skin.  I idly noticed that the more time I spent around Hannibal, the more flirtatious I became with him, and decided that I was just fine with that.

            He paused, his fingers grazing the cool glass as he considered me.  He too had observed in the passing weeks that I was quite intent on teasing and chasing after him; it was time, he thought, that he turn the tables on me and see how I reacted, after all, I was polite, pretty, and seemed to be fairly intelligent—if a little impulsive.  Hannibal slid his hand along the wood surface before switching to the back of the chair, watching as I tracked him with the corner of my eye until he passed out of my sight.  He smirked as my breathing hitched then deepened, and I turned my head slightly towards him, my posture shifting appropriately for an Omega in reaction to the new-found tension in the room.  He leaned down, murmuring in my ear, “And if I did?”  Upon hearing my soft aroused gasp he chuckled, noting how my head immediately tilted to the side, instinctively offering my bonding gland to him, “Would you fight me if I decided to claim you, Freyja?”  Hannibal watched with interest and satisfaction as I slowly lay my head on the back of the chair in complete surrender to his will.

            I bit my lip as my eyes fluttered shut at his words and my heart pounded against my ribcage, finally I was able to open my eyes and bring myself to breathe out the question, “Would you want me to?”

            A hand curled slowly around my throat, pulling a faint moan from me, Hannibal’s long, clever fingers holding me in my submissive position as he breathed in the heady scent of my arousal; he smiled as he saw me arch slightly, the flush across my face darkening a shade.  I trembled beneath his touch, my breath whispering out his name as he gently stroked my sensitive skin; he moved his hand, his thumb brushed along the side of my throat, coaxing a soft, barely-there whine from me as my eyes once more slid shut, my lips parting ever so slightly in a delicate pout.  Hannibal pulled his hand away, fabric rustled behind me, making my pulse quicken, but I stayed still, my eyelashes casting slight shadows upon my face, not wanting to risk breaking the spell that bound every fibre of my being to his command.  Hannibal finally spoke, “It is getting late, Freyja; since you have already eaten I would suggest you get some rest.”

            That got my attention and broke the spell all in one go.  My eyes flashed open in shock and mortification; he was sending me to bed like a recalcitrant child!  I coloured darkly at this new development, stiffening so my back was ramrod straight as I rose from the chair, and in my state of disbelief I forgot myself while responding cordially, “Good night, Hannibal.”  With that I turned and strode with a measured pace from the room and upstairs to get ready for bed without waiting for a reply.

            Hannibal watched, amused as I left the room; this time I hadn’t even thought before using his first name, I was so thrown by his abrupt dismissal.  He chuckled to himself at how easily he had lulled me and then incited me, how I responded automatically, and had so stiffly, yet politely bade him good night, confirming what he had thought for some time: I may not know him very well, but I clearly viewed him as an equal.

 

*                *                *                *

 

            I sat on the bed, flummoxed and completely taken aback by what had just transpired, his calm, unaffected words echoing around in my head.  The manner of his dismissal stung, for he had for all intents and purposes, brushed me aside and sent me to bed like a child right after he had responded favourably to my flirtations; I couldn’t believe it, even when I thought I had the upper hand—I’d let him toy with me without even realizing it, and he’d had me singing any tune that caught his fancy.  Even when I left, it was almost certain that he knew exactly what I was going to do and what I was thinking.  How had I let myself become so easy to play?  I shook my head, attempting to clear it, I had work to do, and if there was any doubt about me going out tonight, there was none now; I smiled grimly, it was unlikely that Hannibal foresaw this.

            Dawdling, I “prepared” for bed, completing my normal night-time routine and slipping beneath the covers to wait for Hannibal to retire.

            And waited.

            My eye twitched in irritation, it had been an hour since I got in bed, and if I wasn’t careful I would drift off to sleep.  _How long is this man going to work?!  Is he waiting for me to fall asleep??_   I glowered at the door, royally ticked that I still hadn’t heard his footsteps ascending the stairs.  Another thirty minutes passed before I heard his distinctive tread, I perked up, but his steps led away from his office and into a different part of the house.  Confused, I settled back to continue my waiting game, and when I heard his footsteps again, I was puzzled to hear a door quietly opening and closing.  _Oh, that’s— **oh** , he’s going out to kill, that’s why he wasn’t coming up.  He **was** waiting for me to fall asleep.  Drat, this complicates things a bit, imagine how awkward and dangerous it will be if we encounter each other in either our comings or goings_ , I cringed, this was why I preferred to go out when he was away at work, the time-tables were set, and there was no question of me inadvertently walking in and catching him red-handed—or of him catching me, for that matter.  I sighed, I still had to go out; there was a rare book in need of liberating.  I dressed quickly in my gear before opening the window and removing the screen, placing it outside on the removable plastic hook I had put there; I stuck my head out, looking around to make sure I wouldn’t have an audience when climbing out the window.  The area was deserted.  Smiling, I ducked back in to grab my soft, black leather bag, slinging it on as I hopped up on the windowsill, swinging my legs out and turning so I was balanced on my hands before finding my foot and handholds.  I quickly closed the window and replaced the screen, clambering down until I could safely jump to the ground below.

            I breathed in deeply, there really was nothing like the night air of a forbidden excursion—even with all the chemicals and the pollutants of the city.  Humming the little ditty Newry Highwayman to myself, I set off into the night to rescue a book from the loveless clutches of a man who was only a collector for the sake of appearing refined, and who didn't even know anything about proper security, the very thought of a person like that made me snort in derision.

 

*                *                *                *

 

            My jaw dropped as I strolled along the brick sidewalk.  This idiot may have poor taste when it came to what he did with his time, but he sure knew his way around architecture and what to do when it came to landscaping; the man had a beautiful house and lawn tucked away behind some trees.  It would be easy to climb, what with all those lovely embellishments in the brick and woodwork, and easy to get into as well because of the fool’s lax security—all he had was motion sensor floodlights and these supposedly pick-proof locks.  Arrogance was the downfall of the rich.  Too many of them thought themselves better than everyone else, and that was why I stole from them, to receive the wonderful satisfaction of taking what they considered theirs, of knocking them down to size.  There was nothing quite like it.

            I grinned, there was no one around and I was in the blind spot of the security cameras that were stationed at some of the houses, so I turned off of the sidewalk at the edge of a neighbour’s yard where they had planted a bunch of evergreen trees so I could approach the target house from a more remote area.  Slipping through the branches, I paused, surveying the place.  His favourite car was parked in the drive in front of the porch.  _That’s odd; he’s usually rather religious when it comes to caring for his cars.  Let’s hope he’s still sticking to his normal schedule, otherwise that might make things a little tricky_.  I looked at where the floodlights were positioned.  At a glance one would assume that the sensors overlapped, but on closer inspection that proved to be quite the opposite.  There were gaps, there was cover provided by the meticulous landscaping, and, contrary to popular belief, if you were careful and had plenty of time, you could cross a yard without tripping a single light.  You just had to move slowly, after all, if gently waving branches from trees in your yard never set them off, why should you?

            Crouching down, I plotted my way across.  Once I got to the side of the house I would be fine, the owner had made a rookie’s mistake; he thought that if you had the yard covered, then there was no way anyone could get near the house, and as such there was an approximately two foot wide blind spot encircling the entire structure—so disgraceful and pathetic.  Glancing about one more time to confirm my instincts that I was unwatched, I crept forwards, wearing the shadows like a cloak, I slunk my way uneventfully through his yard.  When I reached the wall of the house I smirked, so far everything was going smoothly.  I made my way to the window I had chosen, mentally bemoaning the fact that I couldn’t just go through one of the outer doors since that would change the air pressure of the house too suddenly, and I didn’t know how alert this fop was.  _Ah, there we are_ , I thought to myself as I spotted a basement window right where the blueprints had said it would be, and just as I had noted from the Intel report, the guy had neglected to put locks on these seemingly harmless windows—not that locks would have stopped me, it just made my job easier and shorter when they were absent.  Quickly I removed the screen and dropped silently into the basement; I was in.  _Okay, nicely furnished basement, I’ll give him that_ , I thought as I moved through the dark space, admiring what I saw with my night-vision as I reached the stairs before heading up them and out onto the main floor, quietly closing the door behind me.

 _Thump, thud, smack!_   There was the faint sound of a woman crying out.

            I froze, those sounds definitely weren’t from me, and they were coming from somewhere upstairs.  I cocked my head to the side, listening, quite puzzled, _is the guy beating up his girlfriend?  I didn’t see anything about this in the file.  And what are they even doing up?  It’s really late at—_

            The same woman weakly cried out again, “Uhh, harder!”

            Realization of what they were doing hit me, _oh **hell** , no.  No, no, no, no, no.  Please no, I came here to steal from them, not to listen to them doing… **this**_.  My face and ears burned as I made my way as quickly as I could to the library, desperately wanting to be anywhere but in this house.  _At least I don’t have to worry about disturbing them with my movements or worry about them deciding to get a drink of water_ , I reasoned half-heartedly with myself.  As soon as I entered the library I looked around and found the book after looking for only a few minutes.  Relieved that I could now leave, I tucked it in my bag and quickly slipped along my way after making sure that everything appeared to be untouched, that way the guy might not even notice that the book was gone for a while, and when he did discover it, he would probably just think that it had been misplaced.  Soon I was back at the window.  I moved quickly, pushing off the ground, grabbing hold of the windowsill, and hauling myself up and out.  _Freedom!_   Gleefully I replaced everything and took off at a jog after clearing the motion sensors.

 

*                *                *                *

 

            I slowed my pace as I neared the bookshop that we worked out of—the thievery had gone without a hitch, the guy being far too interested in having sex with his latest girlfriend to pay any attention to the thief roaming his house, and I now listened intently to music from one ear-bud to purge my memory as I carried the book to Wit’s End, a good “honest” night’s work behind me if there were no other offers in the Thieves’ Den as we called the Wits End’s basement.  When I turned the corner I saw someone coming the other way, a slender figure, smooth dark skin, ink black hair with part of it shorn off puckishly, and a liberal amount of piercings, tattoos and black leather with steel buckles.  I grinned and raised a hand in greeting, “Hellion!”

            The dark-haired boy lifted his head, his almond shaped eyes creasing when he started laughing as he recognized me, “Sturluson!”  He raced up to me, giving me a one-armed hug/headlock that he reserved for his closest friends.  “How’re things going with you-know-who?”

            My eyes widened in mock horror, “You-know-who?!  Don’t tell me he’s back!”

            That earned me another laugh from him, “Sturl, you know who I’m talking about!”  He wiggled his eyebrows suggestively at me, “So have you made your move and fucked ‘til you can’t walk?  ‘Cause if it was me, I would definitely have fucked that guy’s ass into next week by now,” he added in a conspiratorial tone as we walked into the back of Wit’s End.

            “Whose ass are we fucking, now?”  Jackson, the muscle of the team and an Alpha asked as he refuelled on coffee.

            “Sturl’s hot-ass Alpha boyfriend,” Hellion winked at me as he sauntered about.

            Jackson took a sip of coffee, “Kinky.  I didn’t know Sturl had a boyfriend.”

            I glared at the two of them, “That’s because I _don’t_!”

            Hellion grinned, wrapping an arm around my shoulders, “And just to prove how close they are, she’s been living with him since day one!  Isn’t it so sweet?”

            I blushed hotly, “He is _not_ my boyfriend, and the only reason why I am living _at his house_ is because he won’t let me live elsewhere!  He doesn’t think it’s safe—well, that’s what he says, anyway,” I frowned.

            “Aww, hear that, Jackson?  He’s worried about her _safety_!  Isn’t he _such_ a gentleman?”  Hellion crowed, having the time of his life teasing me.  “And get this, he’s even a doctor and he loves the arts!  He’s so smart, and what a romantic, too!  Why I heard that he cooks every meal because he doesn’t want her eating any junk food!”  He spun dramatically, his hands clutched at his chest before flinging himself against a wall.  “What I would give to have that man!”

            Jackson laughed, leaning against the table, shaking his head at Hellion’s antics.

            A glower replaced my frown, “That’s the last time I let a guy who’s bi persuade me to have a “girl talk” with him!”  I declared.

            Hellion perked up, “Jackson, please tell me you heard that!  She’s so in love with him that she’s started _rhyming_!”

            At their chorus of laughter I threw my hands up in the air and did an about-face, “I’m leaving!”

            A voice spoke up behind me, “Not before you hand that book over, there are people who’ll pay a lot for it.”  The shop owner was leaning against the door jam, enjoying the show.

            Swivelling about, I smiled sweetly at Whittier and whipped the book out, delivering it into his waiting hand, “ _Now_ I shall leave!  And I’ll pick up my pay later.  Besides,” I added as an afterthought, “ _daddy_ _dearest_ doesn’t know that I left the house without his permission, and I don’t know when he’s getting back, it would be potentially fatal if we encountered each other right now.”

            Jackson made the mistake of taking a sip of his drink just then and, much to my audience’s delight, managed to choke out, “‘Daddy dearest’?”

            I froze, horrified by the implications of what I had said, not realizing that they wouldn’t inherently know that the nail had been hit right on the head if I acted normally.  A blush flared across my face and Hellion subsequently fell over, roaring with laughter.  “I—we’re not—it’s not—I was just—” I stuttered, wishing with all my heart that I hadn’t said that.  “He’s not my—” I broke off, unable to bring myself to finish the sentence, the tips of my ears turning bright pink.  I made a last-ditch attempt to salvage my dignity, “I was being sarcastic!”

            Hellion gasped for breath from where he lay laughing on the floor, struggling to prop himself up, “Sure—sure you were.  Now what was that you said before, princess?  I couldn’t understand you—” he paused before grinning as he howling out, “Y-you should speak up so your _‘daddy dearest’_ doesn’t decide to punish you for not properly answering questions!”  He collapsed back onto the floor, giving up on trying to hold himself upright as he laughed uproariously.

            The rest of them burst out into raucous laughter at that particular quip.  I looked at them sourly, resisting the slight smile that threatened to tug at my lips “If you’re quite done,” I said witheringly, “I should be leaving, it’s getting rather late.”  Unfortunately for me, that comment and my acerbic expression only encouraged them to laugh more and make comments about how “daddy dearest” would spank me if he found out that I had disobeyed him and been out past my bedtime.  I glowered, my blush now darkening into a deep pink from indignation and mortification and stalked huffily out into the back-alley.  They would never let me forget _this_.  All I could hope for was that they never encountered Hannibal during the day with me, because if they did, there was no way they would ever pass up such a wonderful opportunity to needle and embarrass me in front of him.  They did love poking fun at anyone they could; it was what all of us did for fun—especially if we were doing a gig together.  Strolling along the alleyway I shook my head, chuckling softly; the way we all worked together, it was like living through a Marx brothers’ production, running around doing crazy things just to see if it would work.

            In the distance I heard a clock-tower strike the hour.  I picked up my pace, free-running through the streets and parks.  I didn’t know what time Hannibal would be returning, and had no wish to incur his wrath.  I needed to get back in bed before he finished with his kill and found out that I was missing.

 

*                *                *                *

 

           

            Sunday morning found me sprawled on my stomach in bed, fast asleep, not even the slightest hint laying about to suggest that I had disobeyed Hannibal’s strict orders.  And when I didn’t emerge from my room like a normal person, the good doctor himself came up to check on me.  Hannibal knocked gently on the door, “Freyja?”  When he didn’t receive an answer, he slowly opened it to see me fast asleep and mumbling something about having cute little cannibabies that looked just like their daddy.  He blinked in surprise and puzzlement; this was a first for him.  Curious, he approached the bed I was sprawled in, “Freyja?”

            His voice filtered into my dream-ridden mind, making me smile and cuddle one of my pillows to my breast, thinking it was him.  “…Hannibal…” I mumbled softly into the pillow, feeling all warm and fuzzy, dreaming that he was holding me securely in his arms against his broad chest.  I inhaled deeply, savouring the scent of spice and a rich, masculine smell that was distinctly _him_ before sighing happily, breathing out the three little words, “I love you.”  Hannibal’s eyebrows twitched upwards at my unknowing confession.  Inquisitively he trailed a hand up my spine, then brushing it along my cheek and cupping my face.  I purred under his touch, relaxing completely, and melting into his hand, a pretty blush painting its way across my face as my soft smile widened.  He smirked at my adorable behaviour, sliding his hand down to my throat, making me gasp quietly when he came into contact with my sensitive skin there, my blush darkening as I arched slightly to where I dreamed Hannibal was lying beneath me, pressing myself against the firm mattress and soft pillows, moaning his name.  Hannibal chuckled, the gentle rumble causing me to tilt my head over, leaving my throat submissively open to him.  He stroked the skin there soothingly, smirking as I trembled at his touch.  Idly, he wondered if I knew how susceptible I was to him as my dream lulled me deeper into a blissful slumber filled with his powerful body over mine, slowly and sensually taking everything I had to offer, swallowing my delicate cries of pleasure hungrily.

 

*                *                *                *

 

            I blearily opened my eyes and sat up.  I could tell that I’d slept for too long because now I felt completely bored and exhausted.  Hauling myself up out of bed, I brushed my teeth and tromped sleepily down the stairs, wandering into Hannibal’s office where he was doing paperwork and curled up in a chair so my feet were hanging off the edge and my knees weren’t digging into the chair.  “Hi,” I watched him as I drowsed, admiring his finely sculpted features.

            Hannibal looked up smiling slightly, “Hello, Freyja, I was beginning to wonder if you were going to join me sometime today.”

            Blushing, I shyly returned his smile, unable to get my dream out of my head, it had seemed so real.  “Yeah, sorry, I guess I was more tired than I thought.”

            He chuckled, “It’s fine, you probably needed the extra sleep, considering the odd hours you keep.  Have you had anything to eat yet?”

            I froze.  _…odd hours…oh no, I **didn’t**_.  My eyes darted over his face, he didn’t _look_ angry, and he seemed to be in a good mood…  “Um, no, I just woke up,” I said, feigning normalcy hoping he wasn’t talking about my excursions.  _I had a dream that this would happen!  Wait…does that mean it’ll get all hot and steamy, too_?

            Noticing that something was up Hannibal leaned back, and asked, “Is everything okay?”

 _Oh no—wait, don’t panic.  Why, oh **why** did I come here right after waking up?  I’m always like this when I wake up first thing_!  “Y-yeah, I just…had an interesting dream,” I blurted out.  _What did I say **that** for?!  What if he asks what it was about?  I can’t tell him what I dreamed about_!  I blushed crimson as I remembered the dream, staring down at my hands that were folded in my lap.

            Hannibal’s lips turned up slightly at the corners from my apparent anxiety, “And what were you dreaming of, if I may ask?”

            “Um…” I blushed furiously as I kept my gaze fixed on my lap, happy to look anywhere but him.  “I—well, um, I was…it was…personal,” I squeaked out.  I glanced up in time to see Hannibal give me knowing smirk; I blinked at him with wide eyes, not daring to wonder at what his smile might mean as my heart fluttered in my chest like a bird trapped in a cage.  I attempted to change the subject, “Um, so what are you doing today, Hannibal?”  I froze once more, peeking up at him apologetically as I realized that I had addressed him by his first name, “Er…”

            Smiling benevolently Hannibal answered, “It’s quite all right Freyja, I don’t mind if you address me by my first name.  And I apologise if I put you on the spot just then, that was not my intention,” he lied smoothly as I sat there blushing and fidgeting nervously like a young schoolgirl.

            My gaze darted up to his, “Oh, thank you.  Um, it’s okay, I’ve probably put you on the spot at some point, so…it’s fine.”  I straightened in the chair, now sitting correctly with perfect posture in the men’s pajamas that Hannibal lent me, the collar of the shirt slipping so a pale, freckled shoulder was revealed, and the sleeves falling over my hands.  I breathed in slowly to help me relax, Hannibal’s scent that permeated my pajamas and everything in the house, soothing me.

            Hannibal rose gracefully, moving around his desk, “Would you like to have something to eat?”

            I smiled gratefully up at him, rising to follow him, “Yes, thank you, Hannibal,” I murmured softly, the blush on my face now only a shade or two stronger than a faint dusting.

            “Of course, Freyja,” he smiled kindly at me, eyes appearing soft as he gently shepherded me into the kitchen, a hand resting firmly on the small of my back.  I pressed subtly back into his hand, revelling in his proximity and dominant aura as we walked.  I shivered as he brushed past me to pull out the remains of breakfast, a fact which he did not miss.

            To hide how much he affected me I asked brightly while leaning against a counter, “So what’s for breakfast?”

            Glancing back at me, Hannibal chuckled; I was terrible at disguising what I felt when I first woke up, and yet I would still try—a fact which never ceased to amuse him.  “Today I made Eggs Benedict using a unique adaptation that I made to the traditional recipe.”  He carefully pulled out the dish, placing it on the counter beside me.

 _I bet you did_.  I struggled to keep from giggling murderously at his little inside joke, “I’m impressed, Doctor.”  I leaned forwards like I was about to share a secret, “The best I can do when it comes to cooking is a Salsa Verde dish that’ll have everyone desperately trying to cool the flames that suddenly burst into being!”  I laughed lightly, leaning my head back and watching to see how Hannibal would respond _this_ time to my flirting.  _Because last time…  Not cool, Hannibal; not cool_.

            However, much to my disappointment, after setting the dish on the counter, Hannibal begged pardon, saying that he was going to be meeting with a colleague for lunch, and in the meantime, he had some errands to run.

            I glowered venomously towards the front of the now-empty house, once more ticked off that Hannibal wasn't cooperating with me.

            I ate in silence, savouring the meal Hannibal had made for me while still remaining furious with him.  Once I finished eating I set to cleaning up, idly washing my plate and silverware.  As I dried my plate off, and idea occurred to me.  I grinned.  It was a really bad idea, and I was bored, and wanted to annoy Hannibal.  That was never a good combination, and I knew it, and didn’t care.  I quickly put the dish away, cackling to myself.  Hannibal wanted to go out and have lunch with a colleague?  No problem.  I’ll just go out and spend a day window-shopping, making sure to be within sight when he’s eating lunch.  I raced upstairs to me room and threw on my most flirtatious outfit, a white French provincial-style dress with a see-through light blue scarf wrapped around the skirt and pinned in place with a golden rose lapel-pin, while giggling.  I paused and looked in the mirror, making sure everything was satisfactory before putting on some mascara.  Grabbing my purse and slipping on some sandals, I skipped happily outside, loving the way my dress swirled around me, and knowing that I was sure to get Hannibal’s attention now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And now for the next chapter, I believe. I will post it as soon as it is done.


	3. Carousel

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is me adding more to the chapter as I am want to do.  
> This chapter is for darling violentlands. *cackles*

            Hannibal sat down across from Alana Bloom at the small table next to a window that she had reserved for their lunch.  “Hello, Alana, it’s wonderful to see you again,” he commented in his silky voice.

            She smiled, “It’s nice to see you, too, Hannibal, though I should confess that I invited you to lunch to talk about work,” Alana admitted as she began to start eating.  “I assume you’ve heard about the case that the FBI is working on?”

            Mimicking her actions, Hannibal looked at her curiously, “The Minnesota Shrike.  Yes, it would be difficult not to.”

            “A…colleague of mine is consulting with the FBI on the case, and I’m worried about him.”  Alana frowned, “I talked with Jack Crawford, but he refuses to let Will go, which is only making things worse for Will.”

            “Will?”

            “Will Graham.  He’s a teacher at the FBI Academy, and he has the unique ability to empathize with killers, but it sends him to a very dark place.”

            Hannibal looked thoughtful, “I see.  And what is it that you want me to do?”

            Sighing, Alana said, “I’m hoping that you can either convince Jack to let Will go, or at least do a psychological evaluation of him to make sure he’s okay.”

            He nodded, choosing that moment to glance out the window.  Hannibal stiffened slightly, which Alana noticed straight away.

            “Hannibal?”  She turned towards the window, her gaze eventually settling on a pretty young woman in a white and blue dress, clearly flirting with a young man at a table of books outside a bookstore.  Her eyes switched from the girl back to Hannibal.  “Is she a friend of yours?”

            Hannibal sighed, turning back to Alana, but keeping an eye on his wayward houseguest, “She is a confused young woman in my charge who I instructed not to wander around the city unattended.”  He put his napkin next to his plate after turning his fork to show that he was done, “I’m sorry, Alana, however I must make sure that she is returned safely to my home.”  Hannibal stood, smoothing his suit jacket, and said, “I will, of course, be happy to help with your colleague.”

            Alana rose, “That’s perfectly fine, Hannibal, I hope your charge will be okay.”  She smiled gratefully, “And thank you, Hannibal, that would be wonderful.”

            After excusing himself, Hannibal walked across the street towards Freyja, a firm set to his mouth, and anger burning in his eyes at her disobedience.

 

*                *                *                *

 

            I laughed, tilting my head back as I smiled, starry eyed at the tall, dark Alpha in front of me, “Really, Charlie?  A BB gun to kill a fly?  Since when has that ever turned out well?!”  I playfully pushed his arm as I felt a thrill go throw me, the sensation of eyes I couldn’t see fixed intently on my form.  My hormones spiked.

            “Well, how was I supposed to know that it’d go through the wall?!”  He grinned goofily, blissfully unaware of the man now striding towards us with a frown on his face.

            I giggled infectiously, holding a book against my skirt while letting it swish from side to side, giddy with the knowledge that any moment now, Hannibal would reach us.  “I hope the damage wasn’t too bad!”

            Charlie chuckled ruefully, shrugging, “Nothing a little spackling couldn’t fix.”

            “Freyja, I wasn’t expecting to see you here,” Hannibal stepped in between Charlie and me, fixing me with a look that riveted me where I stood.

            “Hannibal,” I breathed out, my stance shifting completely, eyes darkening with arousal.

            Charlie looked from me to Hannibal, a slightly territorial look entering his eyes until he realized that the scent of an Alpha that was on me was from him.  “Freyja,” he asked in a tense tone, sensing that this quietly seething alpha was not to be messed with, “who is this?”  He shifted away from me.

            Hannibal placed a hand possessively on the small of my back.  “I am Dr. Hannibal Lecter,” he responded coolly, “and who might you be?”

            The unlucky Alpha backed away from me, “Oh, uh, I’m Charlie—a friend of Freyja’s.  No one important.  Um, it was nice to see you, Freyja, bye!”  Charlie quickly fled before Hannibal had a chance to burn a hole through him with his eyes alone.

            With Charlie safely out of the way, I turned my full attention to the angered Alpha next to me who had a hand firmly guiding me closer to him.  “Hannibal!”  I exclaimed happily, feigning ignorance.  “I thought you were to have lunch with a colleague?”  I tilted my head coquettishly, my lips parted ever so slightly, with wide innocent eyes.

            “Did I not tell you to remain at my home?”  He rumbled as he pulled me to him.  Hannibal growled softly in satisfaction when he saw my pupils dilate from his pheromones, making me sway against him and my breath hitch.

            “Hannibal…” I murmured softly, lowering my eyes submissively.

            “Freyja.”  His voice was unforgiving as he brought up a hand to tilt my face up, giving me no choice but to maintain eye contact.  I shivered, pressing instinctively closer.  His arms wrapped around me tightly, “We will discuss this at the house.”  Hannibal’s tone booked no argument.

            I was officially in trouble with him.  I whimpered as a familiar ache curled in my belly, “Hannibal…” I tried again.

            He pulled away; suddenly professional, an arm still placed at my back, and began to walk briskly to his Bentley, nudging me along with him.  I clung to him gladly, wanting to be plastered against him.  Where I was bold and mischievous I was now timid and submissive, an Omega eager to placate the displeased Alpha.  Not only had I disobeyed him, but I had deliberately flirted with another Alpha right in front of him, and I had known exactly what I was doing.  I was playing with fire, and if I wanted to do that, well, Hannibal was just fine with _that_ , he decided.  If I was going to push him to see how far I could go, I had best be ready for the repercussions—and he would not be gentle.  Hannibal paused in his revere to open the car door for me before moving to the driver’s side.  I was an unclaimed Omega living in _his_ house, I was under _his_ protection, and he would not tolerate my flirting with another Alpha—even if it was just to get his attention.

            We couldn’t pull up to his house soon enough for me, and I didn’t dare read the book I’d bought, so I waited obediently for him to open my door for me, squirming in my seat.  Hannibal courteously held a hand out, his emotions now hidden behind his perfect mask—oh, how I wanted to break that façade, to push him until he let go and claimed me in the throes of passion—Hannibal calmly led me into his house, the door closing and locking behind us with an ominous click.  I tried to steady my breathing as his pheromones overwhelmed me in the entryway, making it hard to think or even stand—a fact which he was well aware of as he placed a steadying hand on my back as he guided me into his office.  My heart pounded in my chest as he brushed past me to sit in a chair.

            “Please have a seat, Freyja,” Hannibal asked mildly, gesturing to the sofa opposite him.

            I moved towards the sofa, knowing that he was likely watching my every move and analyzing my behaviour.  I was half tempted to sit off-centre, knowing how OCD he was, but I was in enough trouble as it was, so I sat in the exact middle, spine erect, shoulders back, and gaze appropriately lowered to pacify him.  I looked like a schoolgirl caught cheating.  Something that Hannibal decided to use in his favour.

            “Freyja, I gave you some rules to follow; do you remember what they are?”

            My breath hitched once more, “Yes, Hannibal.”

            “Name them for me,” came his authoritative response.

            I resisted the urge to whimper, and tried to scrape enough brain-power together to answer his demand.  “Y-you told me not to use vulgar language and that I’m not permitted to wander about the city unaccompanied.”

            “Is that all?”

            “Um…” I racked my mind for what else he had said that day.  “You…asked that I show you the same courtesy that you showed me?”

            “Yes.”

            This time I did whimper, which called a predatory glint to Hannibal’s eyes.

            “Would you like to tell me why you disobeyed me, Freyja?”  He asked in a hard, almost hungry, voice.

            I squirmed, trying keep from pushing back, since that would only land me in more trouble.  I answered softly, “I was restless.  I’m sorry.”  I was of course not even remotely sorry, but saw no reason to point that out and as such I acted penitent.

            Hannibal didn’t buy my act for one second, no matter how convincing I was.  The Alpha in him was raging, wanting to dominate me completely, show me that I was _his_ and that no one else was welcome.  He forced that part of him down; he needed to remain in control if I was to be punished appropriately.  “And how did you know of that bookstore?”  His eyes narrowed slightly, “Or did you just wander around until you found it?”

            I fought against my Omega instincts screaming at me to get down on my knees and beg for his forgiveness in front of him.  As far as Hannibal knew, there was a distinct power imbalance between us, but I was not about to play along completely.  “I’ve been here before, remember?”  I blurted, not thinking of how he would take that as a challenge.  “When I saw surroundings that I recognized I made a beeline for it,” I lied easily, not noticing Hannibal’s sudden change in posture.

            Hannibal stood, gazing down at me, anger simmering in his eyes, everything about him demanding my submission.  Without thinking I slid off the sofa to the floor, my skirt puffed up around me as I placed my hands in front of me, submissively arching my back and tilting my head to look up at him, his scent intoxicating me as he moved closer, “ _Freyja_.”

            My chest rose and fell rapidly as I began begging, “Please, Hannibal, I swear I’ll not do it again.  _Please_.”  I inhaled deeply, changing my posture ever so slightly, sliding my legs apart; trying to appeal to the Alpha by offering myself.

            Hannibal growled, silencing me immediately.  “Who was that boy you were flirting with?”

            “Just a friend, nothing more,” I answered earnestly.

            He chuckled darkly, making me whimper again, “How would you know that?  You seemed _very_ close to him.”

            “I’m not, I—I only just met him!”  I lied foolishly.

            A snarl rang in my ears as Hannibal pulled me up, trapping my arms behind my back as he pinned me against his chest.  “ _Don’t_ lie to me, Freyja.”

            Heat filled my cheeks and I whined and arched up, baring my throat in a show of submission.  “I’m sorry, Hannibal.”  I yielded to his unspoken command, blushing in shame, “I met him a few days ago at the shop…”  Hannibal tightened his grasp on my arms and his chest rumbled in a warning growl, a sound so animalistic that my legs buckled and I let my head fall against his chest in complete surrender to him and my instincts.  “…a fortnight ago, Alpha…please forgive me,” I breathed out weakly, my heart pounding, yet strangely I felt at peace.  It was a new feeling for me, making me warm and happy.

            Hannibal paused, looking down at the young woman limp in his arms, and knew that he would have to handle this differently from what he’d planned.  He let go of my wrists and slid an arm around my waist, the other going up to stroke my hair, “I forgive you, Omega, however I need to punish you for disobeying me.”

            I curled my hands into his shirt, “Yes, Da— _eep_!”  I squeaked in mortification at my slight almost slip-up.  There was no way I was about to let Hannibal know _that_.  The implications and inevitable psycho-analysis would be humiliating.

            He raised an eyebrow in question at me, but I currently had my face buried in his chest to hide my blush, “Freyja?”  All he got in response was a nervous giggle.  “Freyja, do you want to tell me what that was you almost said?”

            “Nuuuu,” I gave my muffled response and giggled again.

            Hannibal’s voice hardened, “Freyja, you have disobeyed me for at least two weeks, and I would like for you to answer me.”

            I gasped softly, my core throbbing at his words, but I stayed silent and still in his arms, hiding against his broad chest to await my punishment.  Hannibal gazed down at me, unsurprised, and moved to sit down on the sofa, pulling me with him, but when I went to sit next to him, he pulled me over his lap, placing a firm hand on the small of my back to hold me still.

 _Oh fuck_ , I panted at the thought of my impending punishment.

            A hand rubbed soothingly over my ass, “I will give you one more chance to lessen your punishment, Freyja,” Hannibal spoke with finality.  “Ten blows for disobeying me, five for trying to lie to me, and another five for refusing to answer me.”

            I unfortunately decided that moment to be cheeky, “But, Hannibal, I _did_ answer you,” I smirked.

 _*smack*_  A blow landed on the left side of my ass making me yelp then whimper pathetically, tears prickling my eyes from the forceful strike.  Instead of lifting his hand right away, Hannibal kept it firmly where it landed to allow me to fully feel the blow.  I let my head fall forwards and gave myself over to Hannibal, not even trying to escape my well-deserved spanking.  When he saw how well I took my punishment Hannibal struggled to keep from breeding me right then and there, his cock twitching within the confines of his finely tailored suit pants.  When he regained his self-control, Hannibal let fall another blow, this time on the right side, revelling in my cries, and instead of just letting his hand rest there, he squeezed my tender ass, making me squirm.  He repeated that another three times before speaking again in a dark voice that made me writhe on his lap, “Do you know why I just spanked you, Freyja?”

            I hung limp over his lap, tears staining my face before dripping onto his pants.  “Because I sassed you,” I whimpered out.

            Hannibal looked over me, the way I was clinging to his knees for something to ground me.  His hand rubbed gently over my ass, “Good girl.  And do you know what I’m going to do now?”

            I shuddered and answered faintly, “Continue punishing me.”

            He growled out an intimidating ‘yes’ and proceeded to spank me mercilessly.  My hips shifted with every blow, futilely trying to escape as my head drooped while tears streamed down my face from the force of his hand smacking my ass.  Moans and cries were pulled from me, my voice becoming high-pitched and weak as pleasure and pain kaleidoscoped in me.  My back arched as I begged Hannibal—for what I did not know, all I knew was that I didn’t want this to end: his hand hot and firm on my ass and upper thighs, his snarls ringing in my ears every time I whimpered for more.  My core throbbed as his hand once more descended and then squeezed my tender flesh, my mind was completely hazed over with lust for the Alpha punishing me; all I could think of between bursts of pain and pleasure was how he would feel impaling me on his hard cock that was currently pressed against my belly.  Slowly awareness trickled in that his hand was no longer spanking me, instead he was soothingly rubbing my tingling bottom, murmuring to me about how well I had taken his punishment.

            “Alpha,” I mumbled, the word feeling clumsy on my tongue as I was draped bonelessly over his lap.

            Hannibal pulled me up to his chest, careful to mind my tender ass as he held me, “Yes, Omega?”

            I nuzzled into his neck, weakly pressing my body against his, “I want you to claim me, Alpha.  I wanna be your Omega.”

            An almost fond smile stole over Hannibal’s face as he looked at the submissive Omega in his arms, “If you want to be my Omega you must earn it, Freyja.  Do you think you can do that?”  His lips curved up even more as I nodded sleepily; it would be useful to have an Omega who was loyal to him and him alone.

            Once I had calmed down Hannibal guided me upright, careful to make sure I didn’t fall over as I wobbled about like a new-born lamb.  Gently he nudged me towards the stairs, and upon reflection he decided to carry me up to my room.  I curled my arms around his neck as he held me bridal-style, the Omega in me content to let him do whatever he wanted excluding him leaving me alone.  Hannibal shifted me slightly so he could open the door without dropping me and walked into the room, placing me down gently on my side before sliding off his shoes so he could lay there with me as his instincts demanded, his arousal pushed to the back of his mind as I drifted off to sleep blissfully, happy that Hannibal hadn’t even tried to leave.

 

 

*                *                *                *

 

            “I’m telling you I don’t think it’s a good idea, Jack,” Alana narrowed her eyes at the man walking next to her.

            “And if Doctor Lecter agrees with you then I won’t put him back in the field.”  Jack Crawford’s voice allowed no argument, and his face was set; “Unless you don’t trust Doctor Lecter…”

            “ _Don’t_ , Jack.  I know what you’re doing, and it won’t work.”

            Jack let out an aggravated sigh, “What do you want me to do, Alana?  Will is _saving_ _lives_ , he is more capable than anyone else in the field.”

            “But at what cost?” Alana argued back.  “I don’t want to wake up one morning to find that my friend has been institutionalized because you refused to take him out of the field when he needed to be.”

            “He won’t be.”

            “Can you promise me that?  Jack, can you promise that you’ll take him out of the field before it ever gets to that?”  The look on Alana Bloom’s face said that if he couldn’t promise that, or if he broke his promise, he would have hell to pay.  “Promise me that he won’t get too close.”

            “He won’t.  Get too close.”

 

*                *                *                *

 

            Will stood in the room watching while the science team went over the body of the girl.  Their voices faded out as he saw her again, this time being impaled on antlers.

            “…although these were probably, but not conclusively post-mortem.  So…not gored,” Brian Zeller looked at Beverly.

            “She had a lot of piercings that look like they were caused by deer antlers; I didn’t say the deer was responsible for putting them there.”  Beverly Katz made a face.

            Will interrupted “She was mounted on them.  Like hooks.”

            “Well her liver was removed…” Jimmy Price trailed off as he looked inside her. “And then, yeah, he put it back in.”

            “Huh, why would he cut it out if he was just going to sew it back in again?”  Zeller asked.

            “There’s something wrong with the meat,” Will looked vaguely sick.

            “She has liver cancer.”

            Will fought against the images that rose up in his mind, “He’s eating them.”

 

*                *                *                *

 

            Upon waking up I found myself alone.  Immediately the feeling of being abandoned and cast aside crashed over me without any warning, making me curl up into a tight ball and sob quietly as I tried futilely to push back against the overwhelming emotions.  I sniffled pitifully, thinking of all the reasons why he should just abandon me while my mind weakly tried to counter with all the reasons why he would leave me momentarily.  I carried on like this for countless minutes, berating and beating myself down and then pointing out all of the times Hannibal had been needlessly gentle and kind before spiralling down again.  I was broken out of my reverie when from somewhere downstairs I heard the sounds of someone cooking, without thinking I hurtled out of the room and down the stairs, forcing away the thought that I should just wait and see if Hannibal would show up or if he would do what everyone (in my grief-ridden mind) had always done and leave me to fend for myself.

            Hannibal paused in his cooking, the sound of someone rushing down stairs and through his house towards him.  He sniffed the air, catching my scent; concerned that I was now experiencing Sub-drop he turned off the stove and set the cooking utensils down just in time for a certain distraught Omega to cannonball into his arms, knocking him back a few paces.  “Freyja,” his arms wrapped around me securely, holding me as I clung to him and cried.  “Freyja, it’s all right, I’m right here.”

            Eventually I managed to calm down, gulping down air as the tears slowly stopped, listening closely as Hannibal murmured sweet nothings to me.  After ten more minutes of me just standing there in his arms I had calmed down enough to speak clearly, though I still took shuddering breaths.  “Oh, what are you doing to me, Dr. Lecter?”  I murmured softly while I lay my head against his chest, looking up at him, loving every moment of intimacy.  I slipped peacefully back into the mindset of a complacent Omega.

            The Alpha gazed satisfied down at where I stood in his arms, smirking at my dazed expression, “Come now, Freyja, I thought we were on a first name basis.”

            I struggled to think through the haze he cast on me, “Yes, we are.”  My eyes slid shut as I surrendered to him, “You’re intoxicating—you’re like a drug,” I pressed myself closer to his body, “and I just can’t get enough of you,” I moaned breathily into him, twining myself around his body, delicately cupping the back of his neck and licking tentatively at his bonding gland, gazing up at him, pleading for more intimacy.  “Hannibal,” his name slipped from my lips like a prayer as I gently rocked my hips against his.  A groan resonated deep in his chest, his arms tightening around me, trapping me in his embrace as his head dipped down allowing him to taste my skin.  My eyes fluttered closed as my head fell back, giving him complete access to my throat, something which he quickly took advantage of, laving and nipping at every inch of me that he could reach, feasting upon me.  I whispered his name again as he worked his way back up, his lips moving sensually along my jaw before claiming my mouth.  I melted in his arms as Hannibal slowly slid and pressed his lips along mine, making me moan softly while trying to pull him closer, wanting more.  He carefully, oh, so carefully began to pry my lips apart, gradually giving me what I so desperately craved and deepening the kiss, mouthing at me hungrily, his mouth plundering mine as his tongue twined around mine in a fight for dominance, a fight he easily won as he drew soft needy whimpers from me.  I curled my fingers slowly, scratching lightly at his skin.  Hannibal growled, pushing me against the counter roughly, biting at my throat, just above my bonding gland.

            I gasped, whining desperately, “Hannibal, please!”  I bit down hard on my lip and moaned to prevent a plea for him to claim me from slipping out.  A bad idea, as it turned out.  Hannibal snarled, grasping at my hair as he roughly pulled my head over to expose my delicate throat to his bared teeth.  A tiny sob of pleasure and want slipped from me as my body reflexively struggled against his dominant behaviour.  The Alpha quickly pinned me against him, once more biting at my neck in a show of dominance.  My body juddered in his grasp as I arched up submissively; “Please, Alpha, I’m yours,” I moaned to appease him.  Hannibal breathed slowly as he regained his self-control.  I shivered as his breath stirred the hair on my neck, pressing closer to him, meek and timid, wanting him to dominate me, yet also just wanting the powerful Alpha to comfort me.  Hannibal looked down at me, focusing on how I shyly clung to him, my hands gently fisted in his shirt, my head bowed so that the tip of my nose brushed against his chest, and my closed eyes.

            Hannibal’s voice rumbled in my ear, “Freyja, today I will be later than normal, I have an appointment with the FBI after work.”

            That snapped me out of my stupor.  I peeked up at him hopefully, my eyes sparkling, “Could I please come with you to the FBI?”  A hint of mischief entered my gaze, “I promise I’ll behave…”

            He looked down at me in amusement, “No, Freyja, that would mean that you would have to be with me during my appointments, and that would be counter-productive to my work.”

            I responded far too readily, “I could wait outside your office in the waiting area.”  This time Hannibal raised an eyebrow, and I knew that I had unwittingly solidified his answer.  “Um…” I tried to think of a way to persuade him.  Before I could come up with a convincing argument, Hannibal gave me a gentle warning look.

            “Now, why don’t we get you something to eat?”

            I smirked, and without thinking I said, “Don’t you mean som—ooohh my gosh!”  Thankfully my brain had caught up with my mouth before I said ‘ _someone_ ,’ and I proceeded to hop around madly like I had stubbed my toe.  _I almost blew it.  I almost blew it.  I almost became Hannibal’s dinner, because there’s no way he would let me live after saying that_.  I let myself panic internally.

            Hannibal raised an eyebrow at me in question, “Are you all right?”

            I smiled brightly, “Yup, I just stubbed my toe on the floor, lol,” I then face-palmed, “Please tell me I did not just say the abbreviation for ‘laugh out loud’…”

            Hannibal’s lips curved up slightly in amusement, “You did.”

            “It’s official,” I announced, “pop-culture has ruined me.”

            Hannibal chuckled, “Not quite, you do after all have a deep appreciation for the classic arts.”

 

*                *                *                *

 

            “Please,” A heavyset man snivelled pathetically, a hand reaching out towards Hannibal.  With all the patience in the world, Hannibal lifted his arm to pluck a tissue box up off of the small table to his right, and hand it to the distraught man who pulled several tissues from it before thanking Hannibal, and blowing his nose noisily then crumpling the tissues up to drop them onto the table next to him.  “I hate being this neurotic,” he sobbed.

            Hannibal’s gaze flickered to the tissues, ‘ _rude_ ,’ he thought to himself.  “If you weren’t what you are, Franklin, you would be something much worse,” Hannibal stated.  He paused, giving Franklin a chance to pick up the tissues, but when Franklin made no move to do so, he continued.  “Our brain is designed to experience anxiety in short bursts, not in prolonged duress.  Franklin, you have to convince yourself that the line is not in the room.  When it is, I assure you, you will know.”

 

*                *                *                *

 

            “So I’ll see you next week?”  Franklin looked at his therapist hopefully.

            Hannibal bit back a sigh, careful to maintain his facade, “Yes.”

            “Okay.”

            With that the heavyset man rose and Hannibal walked him to the door, opening it for him.

            “Dr. Lecter,” a man came up to Franklin, shaking his hand.

            Hannibal looked the man over, “I hate to be discourteous, but this is a private exit for my patients.”

            “Oh, Dr. Lecter,” the man switched over to the tall doctor, smiling and laughing a bit at his mistake.  “Sorry.  I’m Special Agent Jack Crawford, FBI.  May I come in?”  Jack pulled out his badge, showing it to Hannibal.

            “You may wait in the waiting room.”  Hannibal turned back to his lingering patient, “Franklin, I’ll see you next week,” he looked at Jack, “unless, of course, this is about him.”

            “No, this is all about you.”

            “Well in that case,” Hannibal excused himself and returned to his office.

            Jack sat back down and from time to time glanced at the clock.  Dr. Lecter was keeping him waiting.  After a while the door to the office opened again.

            “Please, come in,” Hannibal held the door open.  When Jack entered the room Hannibal closed the door and said, “So, may I ask how this is all about me?”  There was nothing in his posture to suggest that he had his guard up, but Hannibal was wary of this surprise visit.

            “You can ask, but I may have to ask you a few questions first,” Jack answered good-naturedly with a slight smile.

            Hannibal nodded, a slight smile gracing his lips in response.

            Jack gestured to the door, “You expecting another patient?”

            Hannibal lifted his hands, “Not at all.”

            “Good.”  He turned and walked further into the office before looking back, “No secretary?”

            “She was predisposed to romantic whims, followed her heart to the United Kingdom.  I was sad to see her go.”

            They walked towards Hannibal’s desk.  “Wow,” Jack pulled back a sheet of tracing paper to reveal a lovely drawing of a building.  “Are these yours, Doctor?”

            Hannibal looked over the drawings, “Among the first, my boarding school in Paris when I was a boy.”

            “The amount of detail is incredible.”

            “I learned very early a scalpel cuts better points than a pencil sharpener.”

            “Now I understand why your drawings earned you an internship at Johns Hopkins.”  Jack sounded impressed.

            Hannibal tilted his head slightly; he had not mentioned that to Jack.  “I’m beginning to suspect that you’re investigating me, Agent Crawford.”

            Jack chuckled, “No, no, you were referred to me by Alana Bloom; in the psychology department in Georgetown.”

            “Most psychology departments are filled with personality deficients, Dr. Bloom would be the exception.”  He walked towards Jack.

            Jack chuckled again, “Yes she would, yes she would,” he trailed off.  “Well, she told me that you mentored her during her residency at Johns Hopkins.”

            “I learned as much from her as she did from me.”

            “She also showed me your paper…Evolutionary…uh…Evolutionary Origins of Social Exclusion?”

            “Yes,” Hannibal nodded.

            “Very interesting, very interesting, even for a layman.”

            “A layman?”

            Jack elaborated, “Next to you I consider myself a layman.”

            Hannibal chuckled, “The head of the Behavioural Analysis Unit and you consider yourself a layman?”

            Laughing Jack answered, “Well, when you put it that way…”

            “So, may I ask why you are here?  I take it that you are not here for a discussion on behavioural analysis?”

            “No, as I said I was referred to you by Dr. Bloom.  I was wondering if you could consult with us on some cases.”

            “Of course, anything I can do to help.”

 

*                *                *                *

 

            Back at Hannibal’s house I was up to no good.  I was on a Skype call with my boss.  “Who is this guy?”  I reached down, adjusting the ties on one of my boots.

            “He’s one of our more prestigious clients; you’d better be on your best behaviour for him—he’s a very dangerous man if you aren’t careful around him.”  Whittier replied as he sorted the order forms on his desk.

            “Remarkably,” I commented dryly, leaning against the table, “that still doesn’t tell me who he is.”

            “And for good reason; only those of us in management know who he is, and that’s the way he wants us to keep it, Sturluson.”

            I snorted as I inspected my fingernails, “It’s not like I’m some impertinent lackey, I’m the best rogue in town—the only one of my Class.”  I smirked a bit at the pun and pushed off of the table, “So, if I’m not to know who this prissy princess is then who’s picking up the package?”

            “He is.”

            I suppressed a grin, “Sounds like someone can’t make up his mind, because you know how I never forget someone if they’ve got something to hide.”

            Whittier glanced up in warning, “Don’t go looking for this man.  Don’t try to find out who he is or where he lives, and above all, do not give him a reason to kill you.  Oh, and don’t look directly at him, we don’t want you to be able to recognize him should you see him outside of work; don’t ask him any questions, and avoid as much contact as you can.”  He went back to the order papers, frowning as he came across a discrepancy.

            I stared, perplexed, “Then how the deuce am I to know if I’m delivering the package to the right person or not?”

            “He will be at the rendezvous point.”

            A sigh expelled from my lungs and I frowned, “That’s all you’re going to give me, isn’t it?”

            Whittier smiled faintly at my pouting tone, “Yes.”

            “Fine, I’ll go give this questionable package to some random fellow who happens to be at the rendezvous site,” I grabbed the light box that had been delivered earlier with the instructions to call Whittier, and stuffed it in my bag, “Never mind the fact that our freedom and livelihoods hang in the balance, and that if we were to be discovered everything that you’ve taken so long to build will come crashing down.”  I looked over his desk, examining the other boxes piled on it.  “Hey, what are those?”

            “What are what?”  Whittier asked absentmindedly as he wrote out a shipment order.

            “These boxes, the package I’m carrying…take your pick.”

            “I can’t remember what they’re called, but you wear them over your clothes to prevent contaminating a crime scene, the box you have is from this shipment.”

            I made a derp face, “So a full-body Sonky; that’s a lovely image.  Am I going to be having a midnight rendezvous with a killer?”  I shrugged; it didn’t really matter to me.  “See ya!”  I dramatically flourished my arm as I ended the call, hearing Whittier call out a farewell after me.

            The day proceeded slowly from there; I was itching to wander the city, but without Hannibal’s permission to do so could prove fatal if I was caught—and I would be if I left before Hannibal went to bed.

 

*                *                *                *

 

            Hannibal safely asleep, I strolled along the alleyway to the rendezvous point for the client to the rhythm of one of my favourite songs [When you’re Evil by Voltaire] when I noticed that someone had started following me.  _Seriously, right now?  I’m busy_.  I continued on my path, altering my pace at irregular points to ascertain whether or not the person following me was alone.  As I listened I realized that the rhythm the person was walking in was familiar—alarmingly familiar.  I froze, realizing where I knew it from; I face-palmed, all of the warnings that I had been given suddenly making perfect sense.  _Hannibal.  He’s the client.  Hannibal is the client, and he doesn’t— **didn’t** know about my job.  This is going to be_ _dreadful, and I’m not supposed to give him a reason to kill me…_  I groaned softly to myself in frustration, if I had recognized him, then it was beyond a doubt that he had recognized me, as well.  I glanced up to see exactly where I was and realized that it was just as well that I had stopped; I was at the rendezvous point.  The footsteps behind me continued, and I turned to greet Hannibal, a rueful smile on my face.  “I’ve got your…blast, what _do_ they call these things?  The things you wear over your suits when you go to restock your pantry.  I’ve got them for you.”

            Hannibal stepped forwards watching me silently, his face unreadable to my eyes.  I knew.  I knew who he was, and I knew what he did, the only thing that puzzled him was why had I stayed with him?  Knowing what he was, why did I let myself become attached to him?  I clearly did not need his help supporting myself, and given my field of work, being prone to delusions of living in a fictitious universe wouldn’t affect my way of life.  And more importantly, knowing what sort of meat he cooked with, why did I willingly eat it?  Why?  For a second time Hannibal was perplexed by me.  Then it occurred to him that I again had been disobeying his explicit orders not to go anywhere without him.  I had most likely lied, deceived, and done who knows what else without once informing him, the man who was so graciously letting me stay in his house; that was rude, _very_ rude.

            I shifted uneasily, noticing the way his face darkened, “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about my job, I just thought you would take a very dim view of it, considering that it involves me roaming around by myself.  At night.  Alone.  Um…”

            Hannibal stepped closer and did something that had an effect that I never believed could happen, “ _Freyja_ ,” he uttered my name in a deadly tone.

            My eyes widened at the sound, my whole body jerked and my legs buckled beneath me, leaving me vulnerable to the formidable Alpha, a fact which my body was delighted by.  I panted softly, looking up at him through half-lidded eyes, a blush staining my cheeks.  I bit my lip to try and stop myself from begging for him.  At this point Hannibal was right in front of me; he reached out and stroked my face gently before sliding his hand down to my throat.  I mewled softly; knowing that I was well and truly fucked, my instincts took over, “Alpha…”  I nuzzled into his wrist, my tongue darting out to lap at his skin.  “ _Alpha_ ,” I couldn’t help myself, the moment I tasted his skin I was lost.

            “You don’t seem surprised to see me, _Omega_.”

            I struggled to think, “I’ve known about you since the beginning, Alpha,” I whined pathetically, needing his touch.

            His hand on my throat tightened slightly, making me moan.  He looked at me clinically, his face devoid of emotion.  “Is there anything you would like to say, Freyja?”

            “I’m sorry, Alpha, I shouldn’t have disobeyed you,” I made no attempt at an excuse, knowing that doing so wouldn’t help in the slightest.  I looked up at him with eyes full of want, “Please, Alpha, I swear that I won’t tell a soul, I’ve known about you for months and I haven’t told anyone.  I don’t _want_ to tell anyone.”

            Hannibal had already decided that I would be more useful to him alive, but he saw no point in telling me that.  He released my throat and closed him hand around my arm, pulling me up.  Without another word he set off to his home, letting me wonder about what he had in mind.

            When we finally reached the house I was no longer as submissive, I had my fire back at the cost of apparently losing my sense of self-preservation.  “So what’s it going to be?” I asked snarkily as we walked into the house.

            Hannibal narrowed his eyes slightly at my question, “Freyja,” his voice had a dangerous edge to it, warning me to back down.

            It did the exact opposite.

            Anger coursed through me as I let out a feral snarl and whipped my arm up, trying to break his grip and free myself, but he pushed forwards and pinned my arms to my side to throw me off-balance with his weight, anger now apparent on his face.  I grabbed his tie to remain upright, yanking _him_ off-balance instead.  Hooking a leg around one of his, I pulled it to me while shoving against his chest to knock him down.  Hannibal hit the floor with a thud, taking me with him, and immediately rolled the two of us so he was pinning me down.  I grinned, my anger transforming into a fierce, aroused joy as I let my inhibitations drop, _finally someone who can challenge me!_   I bucked my hips up, throwing him forwards.  His hands slammed down on either side of my head, catching him; I wrapped my hands around his left elbow and hooked my leg over his, hauling his arm down and kicking off the floor, rolling so I was on top.  Hannibal grabbed me with his free hand, pushing me into the wall right next to us, pinning my right arm and leg by using the position I was in against me.

            Hannibal growled, everything about him now screaming Alpha male, “Stop fighting me, Freyja, you won’t win.”

            My eyes widened in surprise, my pupils dilating as I shivered and felt arousal shoot through me at Hannibal’s words.

            “And you _will_ submit.”

            My chest heaved as I fought to hold on to clarity of thought, and ignore the way Hannibal made my head spin.  “Yes, yes I will—but you’re going to have to fight me for it!”  At that I thrust against him, shoving until I managed to stagger upright.  I ran at the door, as tempting as it would be to stay and see just how far we could push each other, I technically did have a job to do.  A strong hand grabbed the back of my shirt collar, yanking me backwards; I cried out in indignance and ripped at the buttons, sliding free of the offending restraint that Hannibal attempted to place on me and whirling around to glare at him.

            Hannibal stood there, my tattered shirt in hand, his eyes dark, and his normally impeccable image unkempt with his hair falling into his face.  His eyes raked down my body, from my now bare shoulders to my plump, creamy breasts supported by a black bra, the contrast making my skin glow; Hannibal then dragged his eyes to the V of my pelvis and the low-rise jeans hugging my hips and legs.  He growled at the thought of me getting away; whether I acknowledged it or not, I was _his_.  Hannibal would not tolerate my insubordination—and given my current mood, it was high time I learned that.

            I swallowed, trying not to focus on Hannibal’s impressive body or his growing erection, but when he growled, a soft whine pulled from the back of my throat—a whine which Hannibal heard.  His eyes snapped up to mine, pinning me to the spot, arousal pooling in me.  Hannibal stalked forwards, breaking the spell; I spun around and took off running further into the house, yanking my leather boots off, excitement coursing through me.  If Hannibal wanted me, he would have to catch me and fight for dominance, there was no way I was going to make this easy for him, he needed to prove that he could match me—that I couldn’t push him away like I did with everyone else.  A snarl sounded behind me as Hannibal rose to my silent challenge and gave chase, I grinned, giddy from the fact that he wasn’t about to let me escape.  I darted around a corner, only a few feet in front of him since I’d had to slow down make the turn—his hand closed on my belt.  I yelped at my sudden reversal as he yanked me back, an arm wrapping around me, I wiggled free and fumbled at the buckle, spinning and squirming away when it was undone so the belt would slide off.  Hannibal lunged for me, refusing to let me have the slight victory; I was on him in a flash, my body plastered to him and my mouth nipping at his in a fevered kiss while I tore at his shirt, twisting around him and pulling it down his arms, letting it catch on his hands and twisting the fabric, using it to bind him temporarily to give me time to get away.  He tore his hands free, this time pausing to remove his shoes and socks before padding silently after me, the scent of my arousal clear in the air.  Hannibal’s eyes darkened predatorily.

            I quieted my breathing, pausing in the kitchen to see if I could hear Hannibal coming towards me.  There was nothing.  I suppressed an excited giggle, and continued to dart through the house, trying to figure out where he was, and where I wouldn’t get trapped when he found me.  I crouched by a wall, peering around into the next room, his office.  _Empty, but only one way in and out…should I?  …fucking **yes** , this’ll be fun_; grinning, I glanced around and then crept into the room, casting about for a good ambush point.

            Unbeknownst to me in my distracted state, Hannibal was steadily moving closer; ready to duck behind something should I start to look around.  He watched amused as I debated whether or not to enter the room, pulling back when I checked behind me.  Chuckling softly, he stole closer when I entered the room, giving me a chance to get away from the door before following me in, closing it behind him and locking it with a click, making me freeze where I was crouched on the other side of his desk.

 _Crap, was Hannibal following me the whole time?!  And he locked the door.  I did not think that he’d do that—heck; I didn’t even know that he **could** do that, but this is Hannibal the cannibal, so why am I surprised?  If anyone would have locks on normal doors, it’s him_.  My heart thumped quickly in my chest as I stood up, my eyes travelling over him, lingering on his bare upper body and the impressive bulge straining against his pants, unadulterated hunger filling my gaze.  I prowled around the room, moving behind one of his chairs; a shameless thought entered my head, making me grin toothily before deciding to enact my idea.  I slunk out from behind the chair, and purred at him, “Hello, Alpha.”

            The change was immediate.  Gone was the control that he so carefully maintained.  Hannibal stared at me, a feral gleam in his eyes, before moving swiftly forwards, a hand shooting out and curling into the front of my bra, yanking me to him.  I panted heavily, revelling in the feel of his hand pressing firmly between my breasts while I dragged my nails lightly down his chest, he growled, the rumble making me ache for him.  I moaned his name and he ripped the bra off my chest, making me mewl delightedly, all I wanted was for him to take me, and to take me fast and hard until long after I had screamed that I couldn’t take anymore.  He grabbed my waist, backing me up and pinning me to the wall with his body as he snarled and tore at my jeans, quickly divesting me of the rest of my clothing.  I tried to attack his pants, but he pushed me back, groping me roughly and grinding his erection into my abdomen, the only movement he allowed was my arching up and rolling my hips, trying to tantalize him into fucking me while he sucked bruises into my throat.  I started struggling against him, desperate for his thick cock; he shoved his hand between my legs, thrusting his fingers in and _curling_ them.  I wailed, clinging to his broad shoulders as he finger-fucked me into submission, driving me higher and higher, but never over the edge.  Bucking my hips I tried to get him to speed up, earning myself a sharp nip on the bonding gland—not enough to claim me, but enough to make me whine and writhe beneath him, submitting.  Hannibal pulled away for a moment, ignoring my whimper of protest and finished stripping, pushing himself between my legs.  My eyes widened and I quickly wrapped a leg around his waist, urging him closer, he obliged, grabbing my thighs and thrusting deep into me with one sharp movement, making me scream in pleasure.  I whined, bucking my hips, wanting him to thrust in and out again and again and fuck me brutally, but all Hannibal did was stare down at me hungrily, a smirk on his lips as he watched me writhe, impaled on his large cock.

            I whimpered at the delicious stretch of him, “Please, Hannibal, fuck me!”

            His eyes narrowed and he leaned closer to growl in my ear, “What did I tell you about using such vulgar language in my house, Freyja?”

            “Please, Hannibal!”  I arched up; _He’s so big!_   I whined softly, I could barely think, the stretch of him a delirious mix of pleasure-pain.

            He snapped his hips roughly, “ _Freyja_.”

            My hips stuttered as my eyes rolled back at his thrust and my head thumped against the wall; my dry spell had been too long, I wasn’t going to last much longer, “ _H-Hannibal_ …”  His cock twitched deep inside me, I clenched tightly around him, panting and mewling desperately.

            Realizing that he wouldn’t get a coherent answer while he was in me, Hannibal pulled out, teasing me with the smooth broad head of his cock rubbing against my folds, I sobbed helplessly, trying to thrust down on him, but every time he would pull away.  “I asked you a question, Freyja.”  His voice had me clenching, making me painfully aware of just how empty I was and how much I needed him.

            I struggled to force my mind to work, “No— _please!_   Y-you told me not to!  Don’t stop, please don’t stop!  I-I’m sorry—please, Hannibal…I need—” I panted heavily, giving up on speaking, and rolled my hips over his erection, whimpering, trying to entice him.

            Hannibal pressed me into the wall with his body caging mine and growled at my throat.  I juddered, my skin prickling as his mouth moved sensually over my jugular, his tongue pressing against my skin and occasionally thrusting in time with my pulse, making me whine.  I rocked my body along his, my eyes drifting so they were just barely open as I felt his hard length slide against me, slowly pushing into my entrance.  A thin, breathy cry slipped from my lips when Hannibal thrust deeper, sheathing his large cock inside me.  He let out a low groan, almost a growl, when I clenched around him as tightly as I could, and he snapped his hips forwards, forcing me to wail.  I panted shallowly; he was so thick and so long that he pressed firmly against my cervix and stretched me deliciously, I gasped for breath as I felt my blood rush to the surface of my skin, colouring me in a dark flush.  I was so close.

            Once again Hannibal pulled out, chuckling at how desperate I was to cum around his cock.  He had no intention of letting me cum after the way I had behaved.  Setting me down he pulled me over to a chair where he sat and led me to lay over his lap.  I whined, knowing full well what was coming.  His hand stroked, deceptively gentle over my ass, “How many do you think you deserve, Freyja?  You have been quite rude…”

            I whimpered needily, arching into his touch, “Th-thirty?”

            He tutted in disappointment at my answer, “Just thirty…no, you have been lying to me for who knows how many months, Freyja, I think fifty would be more appropriate.”

            I went boneless at the thought of him spanking me fifty times, my cunt clenching hungrily.  In total submission I asked, “Do you want me to count them, sir?”

            Hannibal hissed, thrusting two fingers into my sopping cunt, scissoring them quickly, “Yes, you have been a very poorly-behaved girl, you should count every one that I give to you and thank me for it.”  He pulled his fingers out and brought them to my mouth for me to lick and suck clean.

            I shivered in delight at his command, licking and sucking at his fingers hungrily, revelling in his taste beneath the flavour of my juices, “Yes, sir.”

 _*smack*_ Hannibal gave me no warning before starting my punishment, spanking me just as he had before, planting his hand firmly on my ass and squeezing.

            I yelped then moaned at the sensations, arching my ass into his hand, “One, thank you, Alpha,” I mewled.

            Hannibal growled, lifting his hand and letting it fall heavily on me again and again, making me cry out and whimper, thanking him.  He snarled as I writhed on his lap, pushing back into his hand as it came down sharply on my ass.  I panted rapidly, tears sliding down my face as I tried to remember what number I was on as he brought his hand down once more.   My clit throbbed and my core ached as Hannibal punished me mercilessly, his hand painting my ass red.  He paused in my punishment when I started repeating numbers, I was almost done.  Hannibal pushed this time three fingers into me, making me wail and buck my hips as he started to bring me to my peak, but right as my walls started to flutter he pulled his fingers out.

            I sobbed helplessly, squirming, trying to cum, but Hannibal put a stop to that, pinning my hips down on his lap.  “P-please, Alpha, _please_ ,” I babbled mindlessly, craving his knot.

            “No, Omega, you are not to cum.  Only polite, well-behaved girls get to cum.”

            I whined, bonelessly draped on his lap, too submissive to protest.  I tilted my ass up in an invitation for him to breed me.  Hannibal responded with finishing my punishment, spanking me until I was shaking with the need to come.  He stroked my tender flesh gently, listening in satisfaction as I whined for him.  Guiding me down onto the floor, and bending me over the chair cushion so my ass was in the air for him, Hannibal parted my dripping folds and thrust into me sharply, sinking his entire length into my tight, aching core.

            My eyes widened, as my panting picked up drastically in pace, signalling that I was close.  I gasped desperately for air, the friction so intense that I tried to push against his cock with my core, but only ended up pulling him in deeper.  I clawed at the upholstery.  Hannibal snarled and snapped his hips forward in a punishing rhythm, driving his hard, thick cock deep into my wet heat, making my mouth open in a high-pitched keen for his knot.

            “Ha—Ha—Han—” I gasped out choking on air, “ni—bal—hah— **uhhh** …” I pushed my hips back weakly in answer to his thrusts, my head thumping against the cushion in complete surrender as Hannibal brutally fucked me, growling and groaning at my tight heat that was clutching desperately at his hard length.  I panted, I was so close, but something was holding me back from cumming, “ _Alpha_ ,” I cried out in need.

            Hannibal snarled, feeling me twitch around him, “I didn’t say you could cum, _Omega_.”  He thrust in, rougher than ever as if he was trying to get me to cum without his permission, his knot starting to swell at the base of his cock.

            I wailed, high and thin, as his cock scraped roughly over my walls and his knot started to push its way into me.  “Alpha, Alpha, Alpha,” I chanted, “please, Alpha, _please_ , claim me.”

            Groaning, Hannibal pushed his throbbing knot in deeper, he knew that if he bit me that would push me over the edge that I was keening to go over, so he gritted his teeth, bound and determined not to sate me.  He pulled out viciously while his knot continued to swell, snarling as he swatted at my ass, spanking me firmly and making me yelp at the sudden change from pleasure to pain.  Hannibal parted my folds with his thumbs and sank in all the way; pushing his thick knot in my tight, wet cunt as he came, spurting thick, hot ropes of cum into my waiting pussy.  I mewled helplessly in pleasure as his cum painted my aching core and his knot locked him in place; I panted rapidly, squeezing around him as he pulsed.  His cock was throbbing in me as it continued to spill copious amounts of cum into me, his hips jerking to help pump his seed deeper in an effort to breed me; he was filling me up so much and his knot fit in me so tightly that it wouldn’t let his cum seep out.  A needy whine slipped out as I looked down to see my lower belly swelling to accommodate him and his seed.  I tried to slip a hand down between my legs to toy with my clit because I wanted to cum, but Hannibal noticed and grabbed both of my wrists, pinning them down as he snapped his hips forwards in a punishing thrust.  I whined pathetically, tugging weakly at my hands.  Hannibal growled in warning, tightening his grip on my wrists, making me melt beneath him in obedience.

            


	4. Hotter Than Hell

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it's taken me so long! I've just been having a bunch of writer's block, so here's a little more that I was saving for later.

            With that several things changed, I was not allowed to cum without Hannibal’s say-so, I was allowed to go about town if I let Hannibal know beforehand, and Hannibal was suddenly very possessive and still very much would not tolerate my flirting with other men, much to my delight.  I smiled as I sashayed towards Wit’s End at the memory of Hannibal’s first time finding me out about the city, and the subsequent spanking that followed.  That had been a very good day—like yesterday, only yesterday was better, I thought as I remembered the brutal fucking and then the orgasm denial.  Afterwards Hannibal had been very insistent that I drink more water, fetching me a glass of it himself— _he probably just wanted to make sure I didn’t get dehydrated_ , I thought fondly.

            Grinning like a fool I sauntered into the back room of Wit’s End.  “Morning all,” I called out cheerfully at everyone present.

            Hellion looked up from the orders he was filing for retrieval, “Someone’s in a good moo—wait a minute…”  His sharp eyes narrowed on a suspicious looking bruise on my neck.  A wide grin split his face, “Did you—you did, didn’t you?  You did it, you finally did it!”  He cackled salaciously.  “How was it?  Don’t spare the details, girl!”

            I grinned back, laughing, “Yep, and let me tell you, that man…mmm…that man gave me a perfect lesson in obedience.”  I winked at him.

            “Girl—details—details now.”

            “Well…” I drew the word out, fully enjoying the moment, “if I ever doubted the A/B/O dynamics, I don’t doubt them now.”  I smirked and asked slyly, “Do all Alphas have such big knots?  His wouldn’t let any cum slip out.”

            Unfortunately that was exactly when Jackson walked in.  He stopped, squeezing his eyes against the mental image that I had summoned, “Sturl!  _T.  M.  I._   That is _not_ something I want to hear about, Sturl!”

            Hellion and I burst out giggling, “Sorry Jackson,” we both chorused.

            Shaking his head, Jackson turned around and went back to the front of the shop where he had been helping mind the customers.

            Turning back to me, Hellion looked at me intently, “So…”

            Grinning I filled him in, eagerly telling him about how Hannibal had found out about my so-called “night life”.

 

*                *                *                * 

 

            “I’m not interested in working in the field, Jack.”  Will gritted out in frustration as they headed to Jack’s office where Hannibal was waiting.

            “This isn’t about what you’re interested in, Will; this is something that is going to happen.”  Jack Crawford’s face was set.

            There would be no convincing him—but then, there never was, the young Alpha thought bitterly.  “So who is this mysterious Dr. Lecter anyway?”  His bitterness about being coerced into going back in the field seeping into his voice.

            “He’s a psychiatrist who was recommended to us.”

            “By Alana.”

            “Yes.”

            The two of them reached Jack’s office where a man sat waiting in a chair.  Upon the two of them entering, Hannibal turned around in his chair, smiling at Will, his eyes crinkling at the corners.  “Hello, you must be Will Graham,” he pronounced Will’s name carefully as he stood up, extending a hand towards him.  “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

            “And you must be Dr. Lecter…”  Will grimaced in an almost smile.  He moved over to sit down grudgingly, his posture on the defensive.

            Hannibal leaned forwards, seriously, “I imagine what you see and learn touches everything else in your mind—your values and decency oppressed and shocked at your associations, appalled at your dreams…no thoughts in the arena of your skull for the things you love.”

            Will looked at Hannibal almost skittishly, “Whose profile are you working on?”  He turned to Jack incredulously, “Whose profile is he working on?”

            “I’m sorry, Will, observing is what we do.  I can’t shut mine off anymore than you can shut yours off.”  Hannibal moved to take a drink from the cup in front of him on Jack’s desk.

            “ _Please_ , don’t psychoanalyze me.  You won’t like me when I’m psychoanalyzed.”

            “Will…” Jack said cautioning, trying to calm Will down.

            Will stood up abruptly, “Now if you’ll excuse me, I have a lecture to teach.  On _psychoanalyzing_ ,” he added.

            After Will left Jack commented, “Maybe we shouldn’t poke him like that, Doctor, perhaps a less direct approach.”

            “What he has is pure empathy,” Hannibal stated, leaning forwards, “he can assume your point of view, or mine, or some other points of view that scare him.  It’s an uncomfortable gift, Jack.  Perceptions more or less pointed on both ends.”  Hannibal paused, looking thoughtfully at the pictures on the board to the side of Jack’s office, “This…cannibal that you have him getting to know…I think I can help good Will to see his face.”

 

*                *                *                * 

 

            Back at Wit’s End I sauntered into Whittier’s office, “So where’s the incursion this time, Whittier?”

            “5 Chandler Square.  Can you do it?”

            I froze, dread filling me, “What?”

            “I said 5 Chandler Square—why, is that a problem?”  He looked up, concerned.

            “I can’t do that.  It’s too dangerous for me.  Get someone else to do the job if you must, but leave me out of it, I’m not going against that man.”

            Melbourne Whittier stepped out from behind his desk towards me, curiosity and horror written on his face, “Is something the matter?”

            “What?  No!  Of course not!  It’s just too dangerous for me.”

            “Then what is it?”  He demanded.

            “…That’s…where I…live,” I mumbled.

            Whittier stared at me in shock, “You live with the Ripper?!  He’s the guy you live with?!  He’s _that_ Hannibal?!”

            “Oh gee, how many other guys do we know of named Hannibal?”  I asked sarcastically.  “Who did you think I lived with?”  I threw my hands up in exasperation, “And it’s not like I meant to!  The man’s damn persistent, has excellent taste, a frickin’ doctor, he’s smarter than me, filthy rich, and he has the nicest ass I’ve ever seen!”  I paused when I realized that I’d said a bit more then I intended.  “The only reason why I’m _staying_ with him is because he claims it’s too dangerous for someone with _amnesia_ ,” I finger-quoted, “who is unbonded, and thinks that this A/B/O stuff is crap, to wander around the city unattended.  It’s ridiculous, is what it is!”

            Silence filled the room for a good few minutes before he spoke again, this time carefully, “Does he know about your job?”

            “What do you think?”  I flopped into a chair, “You sent me on that job to deliver him those full-body Sonky’s”  I thought a moment, “Of course, it isn’t all bad, he’s very handsome and _such_ a gentleman, and just last week he bought me this _gorgeous_ tailored dress with peacock feathers on it and is going to treat me to an _opera_.  I’d never been to an opera before!  How’s a girl to resist a man as charming as that?  …Not to mention his cheekbones…he’s got some nice cheekbones…and then there are his sharp teeth and that smirk…mmm, that smirk…”  I grinned salaciously.

            “Freyja…”  He gave me a flat look.

            I sighed, flinging myself against the back of the chair dramatically, a heartrending expression on my face as I proclaimed tragically, “No one here appreciates how well of a balancing act I do.”  I sat up, back to normal, “So get someone else for the job.”

            There was the sound of leather creaking as Whittier sat down behind his desk, massaging his temples and sighing long-sufferingly, mumbling to himself about how I was going to get myself killed.  He finally voiced his thoughts clearly, “You could at least _pretend_ to be less suicidal.”

            I placed a hand theatrically over my heart, “Suicidal?  Mr. Whittier, I am wounded!  I merely wish to profess my undying love for the most dangerous gentleman that I have ever met!  And love is the most wonderful, selfless, and inspiring emotion!  Surely you cannot begrudge me that?”

            “Why did I ever hire you?”

            “Because I’m good at what I do,” I answered without losing a beat, grinning widely.

            “Good at getting yourself killed is more like it,” he grumbled.  “All right, I’ll get someone else to do the job.”

            I stood, ready to head home to Hannibal’s, and adopted a British accent, “Good job, Colin!”

            Whittier sighed; sometimes it was like he worked with children.  With that in mind he called out, asking where I was headed.

            “Just to Hannibal’s, why?”

            “Nothing, you should just probably get back there before too much longer.”

 

*                *                *                *

 

            “Good grief, why is it so fucking hot in here?”  I muttered to myself, pulling at my shirt-collar as I padded into Hannibal’s house restlessly, for some reason I suddenly felt really jittery and couldn’t sit still—I also felt very aroused, but since I often fantasized about fictional characters in my spare time, I didn’t think anything of it.

            As I often did when alone, I let my thoughts wander and spoke them without hesitation, “Maybe I have a fever…  Hmm, I want to be fucked by an _Alpha_ , to have him pinning me down, _rutting_ into me, biting at my neck—to have **_Hannibal_** biting at my neck, a cannibalistic psychopath whose body language screams dominant, _primal_ sex…”  I moaned and pressed my legs together, squirming; the thought of him dominating me, of being in such a vulnerable position to a man who could kill me without hesitation or remorse made me want to _present_ myself to him.

            That desire made me freeze.   _What_ _the_ _fuck,_ _I’m_ _acting_ _like_ _an_ _Omega_ _in_ _heat—_ “Oh no—I’m not—I can’t be—this isn’t happening—no…wait…” I paused, my thoughts calming down, “I really can’t be, heats are supposed to hurt and I’m not in any pain, I’m just really horny, haven’t had a chance to get off for a while, and am living with a man whom I fantasize regularly about having really kinky sex with—that’s all this is,” I smiled in relief at my reasoning.

            After a half hour of pacing around and becoming extremely sexually frustrated, I finally broke down and decided to go upstairs to take a cold shower in my rooms and relax— _and_ _try_ _to_ **_release_** _some of this_ _tension_ _while_ _I’m_ _at_ _it—Hannibal’s orders be damned._   I headed to the stairs, pressing a hand firmly against my abdomen.  _I wonder when Hannibal will get home._ That thought caused even more arousal to curl in me.  _Well, I guess I’ve ruined yet another pair of panties._

            I got halfway up the stairs before the pain hit me, “Uhh,” I groaned, doubling over as it ripped through my abdomen.  _What_ _the_ — _urgh, what’s going on?  Oh no.  No, no, no; I don’t recall reading that all the heat symptoms take a while to set in; I thought they hit you like a pile of bricks, everything hitting you at once.  This isn’t how it happens._   I propped myself against the wall of the staircase, sliding down to rest on the stairs, panting.

            I was so aroused that the emptiness in me was blatant; the need to have something long and _thick_ thrusting into me—to have a man’s weight pinning me down—was clouding my mind and senses.  I squirmed, trying to find some sort of relief.  Against my better judgement, my hand slowly began creeping beneath my pants.  I moaned in relief as I felt my fingers glide through my now dripping folds, giving me some much-needed friction.  I arched upwards to get a better angle, my hand slipping deeper in—suddenly I started slipping down the stairs.  I cried out in surprise.

            Grabbing hold of the banister with my free hand, I stopped my descent before trying to haul myself back up the stairs.  My feet slipped again, and this time I wound up at the bottom of the stairs.  I groaned softly in annoyance, knowing that if I wanted to get to my room I’d have to remove my hand from my pants.  _…Why do I even want to get to my room?_ I gazed bleary-eyed up the staircase, unable to recall why I had started this.  _Was it because of Hannibal?_ Then I thought of Hannibal finding me like this, I moaned and more slick gushed out, thoroughly ruining my pants and, at this point, seeping into the carpet beneath me.  _Hannibal, where’s Hannibal?  I need Hannibal._ I keened softly, craving the feeling of the mature Alpha dominating me, breeding me, _owning_ me, making me submit to him while his scent engulfed me and his knot split me open.

            I writhed helplessly on the floor as arousal and pain rippled through me; it now felt so hot that I had started clawing and yanking at my clothes until I was completely bare.  I whimpered, the carpet feeling too rough and warm on my sensitive, fevered skin.  I managed to drag myself over to the smooth, cool wood flooring where I slumped, panting and whining as I tried to alleviate the burning need with my hands; but they were too small, my skin too soft, and I couldn’t find the right angle, I was shaking and panting from the need to cum, “ _Hannibal—Alpha—please—need your knot; pleasepleaseplease, claim me, take me, fill me with your nice thick, heavy knot, please._ ”  I begged, writhing, the thought of the dangerous Alpha fucking me roughly and then his knot expanding, stretching, and pulsing with his seed inside of me, pushed me over the edge and I came with a broken cry, rolling my hips helplessly, trying to push my hand in deeper and whining desperately when I couldn’t, tears of frustration and pain sliding down my face.

 

*                *                *                *

  

            Hannibal stepped out of his car, he was curious to see if upping the dose of the heat-trigger would have any effect on me; so far the smaller dose had only made me more mischievous, he reflected thoughtfully.  As Hannibal unlocked his front door a familiar scent and pitiful sounds drifted from behind the closed door, hardening him almost instantly.  I had gone into my first heat.  He prowled into the house to find me.

 

*                *                *                *

 

            “Alpha, Alpha, Alpha,” the constant litany fell from my lips, my voice high and needy as I thrust my fingers into my core, pleasure winding through me as I roughly twisted and curled them.  “ _Ah!_   _A-Alpha, y-yes—nnnn!!!  Please, **PLEASE!**_ ” I wailed throatily as my fingers curled into my g-spot, stars exploding behind my eyes, “ ** _Please, Hannibaaallllll_** _.  Alpha, ALPHA, ALPHA, ALPHA_ ,” I cried in mewling screams, my voice rising in pitch as I worked myself even higher, unable to stop with just the one orgasm, feeling my long nails drag across my walls and catching on every ridge.  I clawed at my abdomen with my left hand while my right curled further in—digging my nails as deeply into my g-spot as I could while my hips bucked uncontrollably, animalistic cries tearing from my throat as pain and pleasure blurring together in their intensities.  I screamed and sobbed, writhing and thrashing with pleasure as another ultimately unsatisfying orgasm brutally crashed over me.  I couldn’t breathe.  My body shuddered and bucked, my vision went white and my screams faded to the background as the pleasure and pain cascaded over me, refracting on each other, the only thing I could hear was my blood pulsing through me.

            I sobbed weakly, gasping for breath, slowly coming down from my orgasm, whimpering for an Alpha as I lay shaking, curled on the floor.  I had pulled my hand from between my legs since the effects of my last orgasm made even me too sensitive to continue, but the pain and need for pleasure was driving me insane, so I trembled and writhed, curling into a tight ball, my arms wrapped around my middle.  I breathed in deeply, Hannibal’s scent devastatingly stronger than before, calming me and making me keen feverishly for him, slick pouring from my achingly empty pussy.

            The cause of Hannibal’s powerful scent stood in the doorway to the room, gazing at me in a predatory manner.  Hannibal stalked towards me, eyes dark and hungry, watching as I deliriously keened his name.  He carefully undressed, folding his jacket and sweater on a chair, and unbuttoning his shirt, every movement slow, deliberate, and graceful, his eyes never leaving my trembling body.  When Hannibal was dressed in nothing except for his briefs, his large cock straining against the fabric, he advanced upon me quickly, pinning my back to the floor with his hands before one hand went to firmly grip my hip and the other splayed next to my head in a show of dominance as he loomed over me, his hunger evident on his face.  “Omega, that was quite a licentious display,” his voice purred sinfully, his lips twisted up in a satisfied smirk as he surveyed my flushed form.

            My eyes flew open and I moaned loudly when I saw the animalistic look on Hannibal’s face, stretching my body out sensually, arching up slightly and letting my head fall to the side, exposing my throat before lowering my eyes in submission and started panting heavily when his addicting scent permeated my senses.  “ _Alpha_ ,” I mewled, arching up further in invitation to him, tilting my hips and spreading my legs to expose my slick-covered vulva.

            “Hmm,” Hannibal moved one of his legs to pin one of my thighs to the floor, his large body hovering over mine tantalizingly.  “I believe I remember you saying that you weren’t an Omega, Freyja.  You were quite insistent.”

            “ _Alpha—Hannibal—please—_ ” I begged when he didn’t move, my mouth whimpering the words that I had begged not long before, “ _need your knot—pleasepleaseplease, Alpha, claim me_.”  In my hazed, instinct-driven mind I couldn’t understand why he wasn’t moving.  I writhed in agony as pain stabbed through me, crying out for relief as more slick gushed out, but still Hannibal did not move, all he did was flare his nostrils to take in the scent.  I tried to snake one of my hands down to ease the pain, but Hannibal easily caught my wrist and pinned it next to my head.  I whined and tugged weakly at my wrist before trying to move my other hand so he wouldn’t notice.

            Hannibal’s eyes flashed dangerously as he grabbed my other wrist and pinned it like the first and lowered his head to snarl at my throat, baring his teeth over my bonding gland to get me to submit to him completely, “Did I give you permission to touch yourself, Freyja?”

            My body went completely limp, my head falling back as I whined and shook my head weakly, letting my head loll to the side, yielding to Hannibal’s will as his pheromones intoxicated me.  As soon as I went limp and responded to him, Hannibal pulled back, breathing heavily, trying to remain in complete control while his instincts urged him to breed me right there, to give me his knot and take care of this helpless little mewling Omega beneath him.  When he regained sufficient control over himself he picked me up to carry me to his bed, which would have been easier if I hadn’t decided to twine my body around his and do everything I could to get him to lose control.

            He moved towards the stairs while I moaned as I rubbed my dripping, throbbing core against his hard, clothed cock, the friction of the cloth and the hard heat of him being too much and not nearly enough—arching up to press my plump breasts to his bare chest and pushing my ass into his hands as I mewled and shivered in delight to feel his large, rough hands shifting along the back of my thighs and ass to support me as I locked my legs around his waist, the slick coating my thighs smearing on his skin.

            My arms wrapped around his broad, strong shoulders as I stretched up to nip and lave at his throat and bonding gland, my hips grinding and bucking against his—groaning as I slid and changed positions, pressing my abdomen firmly to him, trapping his erection between our two bodies as I rolled my hips and purred in his ear, letting him know just how much I loved the size of him, whimpering and gasping whenever I felt his hips buck slightly or his cock twitch in response to me.

            Hannibal started walking up the stairs, a noticeable urgency entering his step when I started tugging at his boxers to get at his erection.  I growled intensely into his chest, letting my canines scrape along his skin as I dragged my nails down his back from the way his cock would jolt against me with every stair.  He reached the second floor, breathing heavily from my ministrations while he tried to keep himself in check.

            I panted frantically, moving my body with feverish energy along the length of his, trying to pull enough clarity of thought together to persuade him to take me then and there.  “Hannibal,” I moaned shamelessly.  “Please, please—knot me—dominate me—control me— _own_ me—make me _submit_ to you—make me scream your name, _Hannibal, please…_ ”  I whimpered, nipping at his ear hungrily.

            Hannibal’s grip tightened on me before he dropped my legs, pinning me against his bedroom door, grinding into me as he grabbed my hair, twisting it around his hand and yanking my head over so he could sink his teeth roughly into my pulse-point at the side of my throat, growling.

            My body jerked and I cried out elatedly in pleasure-pain as his teeth marked my skin and his tongue found the sweet-spot on my neck, making me judder and melt against him, my legs buckling beneath me, and a new wave of arousal gushed from me while I moaned uncontrollably.

            “ _Yes_ ,” I keened breathily, feeling the contrast of his sharp teeth and his wet tongue moving sensually over my skin.  “ ** _Alpha,_** _**please** —yes, just like that,_” I mewled desperately before he pressed his skilled muscle decisively into my skin. _“ **OHH,** **yes, Hannibal, YES, please—UUHHHH, HANNIBAL!** ”_  I groaned deeply, clinging to his shoulders as his jaw tightened on my throat and his long, wet tongue thrust and rubbed insistently against my sweet-spot, my body convulsing with pleasure.  “ ** _HANNNNIBAAALLLL… ALPH—UHHHHHH-UHH—UNNNN…  AH…NNNN—MMMMM_ …!**” 

            I writhed in his arms, the need for his knot consuming me in anguish, and pleasure warred with the pain as he savagely marked my throat, bruising and mouthing my sensitive skin while I whimpered and purred, my body not knowing how to react; I was so delirious with the sensations.

            With great effort, Hannibal released my throat and slammed his body against mine, snarling into my ear, fighting for self-control.  I whined, arching and pushing against him, pawing at his skin, desperately trying to get him to fuck me.  He pulled back so he could open the door, and watched, his eyes dark, as my legs failed to support me and I fell on his bedroom floor, catching myself on my elbows, breasts heaving.  I looked up at the large Alpha with half-lidded eyes, my posture sinking into submission as he slowly advanced; a feral gleam in his eyes.

            “Alpha,” I moaned, “please—need you—need your knot inside me— _Alpha!_ ”  I wailed as agony tore through me, my arms slipping as I writhed, causing me to fall prone before him.  I sobbed helplessly as the intense pain ripped me apart, blinded me to my surroundings.  “ _A-Alpha—Alpha,_ _plea—_ ” I broke off, whimpered softly, tears streaming down my face.

            Hannibal immediately picked me up, slight guilt stabbing through him, and pulled me close so his sent would calm me before placing me on the silk sheets of his bed, folding the covers back all the way and divesting himself of his remaining garment.  I writhed on the bed, the cool silk doing little to sooth the blazing heat within me.  Hannibal slipped in beside me, pulling me to him.  I keened and melted in submission as I felt his heavy cock press against my ass; I began shifting so I was lying on my stomach with my knees pulled up and spread apart beneath me.  I looked back at Hannibal and wiggled my ass, mewling needily, trying to tantalize him into breeding me with his knot.  Hannibal moved over me, his chest pressing against my back and the head of his cock brushing my folds.

            “ _Ahh, yesss, please, Alpha, please!_ ”  I pressed my upper body and face into the mattress, rocking back to rub myself on him.  “ _Alpha_ ,” I panted, arousal blazing in my core.

            Hannibal chuckled darkly, “First things first, _Omega_ …”

            I whined pitifully at his tone, knowing it meant I would not be sated like I wanted to be.

            “What was it you almost called me when I first found you wandering around?  'Da'…  Would you care to elaborate what that was?”  He purred, already knowing what it was, but wanting to hear it from my lips.

            “ _Daddy_ ,” I whimpered pathetically, too far gone to care about what telling him that entailed.

            Smirking, he reached around to toy with my sensitive clit, watching in satisfaction as I squirmed.  “Now was that so hard to say?”

            I rocked subtly into his hand, eyes squeezed tightly shut, unable to focus of what he was saying but completely riveted by his velvety timbre.

            Hannibal rubbed himself through my dripping folds, growling softly as I moaned and panted.  He pressed deeper, the thick, smooth head of his cock sliding into me, stretching me deliciously.  I keened and tried to push back and impale myself on him, whining and squirming when he pulled away, but I didn’t have long to wait, the next thing I knew Hannibal grabbed my hips tightly and rammed into me, filling me to the hilt with his impressive length with a loud snarl that I felt vibrating through me.

            My eyes shot open as I arched up, screaming, forcing Hannibal to pin me down savagely as my entire body seized up and convulsed.  I gasped and panted desperately, lost in the unexpected orgasm, “ _HAH-AH-AH-Ah—mm—uhhnnn!  Huff—mmm…yes— **NNNNN** — **SO** — **AH!** — **BIG!!!**   **UHHH** … **FUCK** MEEEE—PLEASE, ALPHAAAA, CLAIM MEE!!!_ ”  I writhed, the feeling of his _thick_ , _long_ , _hard_ shaft being buried in my little cunt sending me to the brink of insanity.  I could feel every ridge, every vein; every pulse of blood, inch of skin and hardened flesh that split me apart.  I reflexively clenched my muscles as tightly around him as I could, pulling him in deeper, the intense pleasure of being filled, of being unable to tighten around him as much as I craved because of his girth, making me scream and claw blindly at the sheets in front of me.  I was whimpering and gasping for breath, trying to beg him to be even rougher.

            Hannibal growled as I tightened further around him and bucked my hips, almost throwing him off-balance.  He wrapped an arm around my middle for leverage, and grabbed my long hair with his other hand, forcing me to submit as he began a punishing rhythm to dominate me, slamming his large cock into me with rough, twisting snaps of his hips, his balls smacking against my clit.  My mouth fell open and my eyes glazed over completely as Hannibal snarled and angled his cock, thrusting and grinding deeper and deeper into my wet heat.  My entire body tensed as another orgasm hurdled towards me, and I felt his knot beginning to expand.  Hannibal became even rougher, his cock wrecking my sensitive walls as the swell of his knot began to catch on me; he snarled as he forced himself in and out of my cunt, causing me to scream in tortured pleasure before he thrust forwards, pushing his cock in as deeply as he could, his hot cum spurting inside of me and coating my walls, while he completely lost control and yanked me upright and sunk his teeth into my bonding gland.  I shrieked, eyes widening while my vision turned white as his bite and the stretch of his knot pushed me over the edge into oblivion.

            I whined and sobbed softly as I came down from the high, rocking back to meet Hannibal’s minute thrusts, and clenching tightly around his knot, making him growl.  “Please, Hannibal,” I managed to gasp.  At that he snarled, pulling me upright and then bending me over again, slowly rutting into my velvety walls, causing me to whimper and feebly paw at the sheets from the overstimulation.  My limbs felt leaden, my blood burned through my veins like fire, and every so often my body juddered weakly in pleasure.  “… _Alpha_ …”  He didn’t stop, he just kept rutting into me, slowly picking up pace but staying slow and shallow, grunting and groaning as he did so.  “… _Hannibal_ …”  Slowly I felt the coil in my lower belly start to tighten again as his cock slowly re-hardened.  “… _please_ …”  I begged breathlessly, the feeling being altogether too much and too little; my head fell forwards on the mattress, I was too weak to do anything but take what he gave me and whine pitifully for more and for him to stop.  “… _Daddy_ , _please_ … _too_ _much_ …”  My walls fluttered around his length as he continued to push his cock into me with twisting thrusts for what felt like hours.  “ _More_ ,” I sobbed weakly, tears staining my face as I felt Hannibal grow fully hard inside of me and his thrusts became rougher and deeper.  “ _Daddy_.”

            “Is something wrong, little girl?”  Hannibal asked with an almost cruel twist of his lips, my weak cries fuelling his arousal as he pumped into me vigorously, only able to pull out so far because of his knot.

            I whimpered, tightening around him, the push and pull of his cock that was knotted tightly in me making me delirious with pleasure, my blood pulsing loudly in my ears like the beating of a drum.  Hannibal pulled back, slowly twisting his cock so I could lay on my back for him.  Once he had settled me he picked up pace again, fucking into me brutally as he watched my lust-glazed eyes struggle to stay open.  Hannibal slowly lowered his body over mine, pinning me down with his weight, still thrusting in as he mouthed along my throat, listening to my cacophony of moans and weak cries of pleasure.  I gasped for breath, panting desperately as Hannibal played my body like a fiddle; he kept winding me up before letting me back down, refusing to let me cum.

            “ _Please_ —need—wan—wanna— _cum_!”  I wailed.

            He smirked against my throat, stilling his thrusts deliberately, softly stroking the other side of my neck, “You’re going to have to articulate yourself better, Freyja.”

            


End file.
